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FIELD,    CAMP,    HOSPITAL 
AND    PRISON 

IN    THE    CIVIL  WAR,    1863-1865 


CHARLES  A.  HUMPHREYS 

\\ 

CHAPLAIN  SECOND   MASSACHUSETTS  CAVALRY    VOLUNTEERS 


BOSTON 

PRESS   OF   GEO.   H.   ELLIS   CO. 
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FOREWORD 

T  MAKE  no  apology  for  printing  this  tale  of 
the  last  two  years  of  the  Civil  War  even 
though  another  and  greater  war  is  engrossing 
the  attention  of  the  whole  world.  This  greater 
war  will  soon  end,  and,  as  God  lives,  will  end 
in  the  triumph  of  the  right,  and  the  nations  will 
then  be  ready  to  enforce  peace  if  any  one  should 
attempt  to  disturb  it.  My  story  will  be  in 
line  with  that  great  consummation.  I  feel  so 
strongly  that  when  war  is  seen  in  its  true  colors, 
it  will  not  only  lose  all  its  allurements,  but 
will  excite  a  keener  appreciation  of  the  bless 
ings  of  peace,  that  I  think  I  could  do  no  better 
service  in  the  cause  of  peace  than  to  present,  as 
I  intend,  an  unvarnished  tale  of  war's  scenes 
and  labors,  its  trials  and  exposures.  I  shall 
weave  them,  in  a  measure,  about  my  own  per 
sonal  experiences,  but  only  so  far  as  is  necessary 
to  present  the  various  phases  of  war  in  definite 
outline  and  living  reality. 

CHARLES  A.  HUMPHREYS. 


M11A681 


CONDENSED  SKETCH  OF  CONTENTS 


PAGE 

War  conditions  in  1863 1—2 

Camp  life  at  Vienna,  Virginia,  in  the  winter  of 
1863-64.  A  Chaplain's  experiences  as  post 
master  and  hospital  visitor 3~IO 

Woman's  help  and  inspiration  in  camp  and 
hospital  exemplified  by  Mrs.  Josephine 

Shaw  Lowell 11-12 

Difficulties  in  holding  Sunday  services  for  the 

regiment 12-13 

Services  in  the  hospital  more  regular 14 

The  Chaplain's  aims  in  his  work      *4~*9 

The  Chaplain  prepares  a  deserter  for  execution.          19-22 
Encouraging  letter  from   Rev.   James  Walker, 

D.D.,  ex-president  of  Harvard  College    .    .         22-23 
A  scout   after  Mosby.     Herman  Melville,  the 

noted  traveller,  goes  along  with  us  ....          24-34 

Opening  of  spring  campaign  of  1864 34~37 

The  battles  of  the  Wilderness ,    .         37~49 

Appearance  of  the  field  a  month  after  the 
battles,  when  Chaplain  Humphreys  assists 
in  gathering  the  wounded  who  could  bear 

the  journey  to  Washington 49~52 

His  wounded  men  inquire  after  Gen.  William  F. 

Bartlett.     Tribute  to  Bartlett 52-54 


vi   CONDENSED  SKETCH  OF  CONTENTS 

PACK 

Difficulties  of  the  journey  for  the  wounded  to 

Washington  54-58 

Sheridan's  raid  towards  Richmond 59~^9 

Siege  of  Spottsylvania.  Gallant  charge  by 

General  Hancock ?o~77 

Sheridan  opens  the  way  to  Cold  Harbor     .    .    .          81-83 

Battle  of  Cold  Harbor.  Chaplain  Humphreys' 
younger  brother  is  killed  on  the  skirmish 
line 83-85 

The  loss  in  the  final  assault  more  than  ten 
thousand  in  one  hour.  Losses  in  the 
month's  battles  over  sixty  thousand  .  .  .  85-88 

Change  of  base  to  City  Point 89-91 

General  Butler's  movement  from  Fortress 

Monroe  to  Bermuda  Hundred  9*~92 

General  Sigel's  movement  up  the  Shenandoah 
Valley  defeated  at  Newmarket.  General 
Hunter  followed,  and  though  successful  at 
Piedmont  failed  at  Lynchburg  and  retreated  92 

General  Early  starts  from  Lynchburg  for  a  raid 

on  Washington 92-93 

Lowell's  brigade  ordered  to  watch  the  passes  of 
the  Blue  Ridge.  To  this  end  Major  Forbes 
is  sent  out  with  one  hundred  and  fifty  men, 
and  is  attacked  at  Aldie  by  Colonel  Mosby 
and  captured  with  fifty  of  his  men.  Major 
Forbes'  heroic  charge  single-handed  .  .  .  93~~99 

Chaplain  Humphreys  is  chased  six  miles  by 
Colonel  Mosby,  but  eludes  him,  and,  re 
turning  to  look  after  the  wounded,  is  taken 
prisoner  by  a  guerrilla  and  made  to  walk 
thirty  miles  to  Mosby's  headquarters  at 
Rectortown 


CONDENSED   SKETCH  OF   CONTENTS      vii 

PACK 

All  the  prisoners  are  taken  to  Lynchburg  and 
confined  in  a  tobacco-warehouse.  Sunday, 
July  17,  1864,  Chaplain  Humphreys,  by 
request,  conducts  a  religious  service  in  the 
prison,  and  afterwards  is  sent  to  the  guard 
house  for  preaching  patriotism.  The 
sufferings  of  close  confinement  .....  114-123 

Friday,  July  22d.  The  prisoners  are  packed  in 
box  cars  and  sent  a  six  days'  journey  to 
Georgia.  The  prison  stockade  at  Macon  .  123-132 

Of  the  sixteen  hundred  Union  officers  im 
prisoned  at  Macon,  three  hundred  are  sent 
to  Charleston  to  be  put  under  the  fire  of 
the  Union  guns  ............  132-137 

Chaplain  Humphreys  is  there  offered  his  free 
dom  if  he  will  go  to  Washington  and  urge 
on  Lincoln  an  exchange  of  prisoners.  But 
he  declines  and  gives  his  reasons  in  an 
address  to  the  prisoners  during  a  religious 
service  conducted  by  him  at  the  request 
of  General  Stoneman  .........  I37~~I39 

Prison  conditions  in  Charleston    .......      140-144' 

September  2,  1864.  All  chaplains  and  surgeons 
are  released  on  exchange.  The  joy  of  being 
again  under  the  Union  flag  .......  144-145 

Chaplain  Humphreys  at  Hilton  Head  arranges 
for  the  exchange  of  his  messmate,  Lieu 
tenant  C.  W.  Amory,  who  was  dangerously 
sick,  and  through  General  Saxton  secures 
a  slight  change  in  the  range  of  the  Union 
guns  so  that  they  would  not  longer  im 
peril  the  lives  of  the  Union  piisoners  in 
Charleston  ..............  145-146 


vi   CONDENSED  SKETCH  OF  CONTENTS 

PACK 

Difficulties  of  the  journey  for  the  wounded  to 

Washington  S4~58 

Sheridan's  raid  towards  Richmond 59~69 

Siege  of  Spottsylvania.  Gallant  charge  by 

General  Hancock 7O~77 

Sheridan  opens  the  way  to  Cold  Harbor     .    .    .          81-83 

Battle  of  Cold  Harbor.  Chaplain  Humphreys' 
younger  brother  is  killed  on  the  skirmish 
line 83-85 

The  loss  in  the  final  assault  more  than  ten 
thousand  in  one  hour.  Losses  in  the 
month's  battles  over  sixty  thousand  .  .  .  85-88 

Change  of  base  to  City  Point 89-91 

General  Butler's  movement  from  Fortress 

Monroe  to  Bermuda  Hundred  91-92 

General  Sigel's  movement  up  the  Shenandoah 
Valley  defeated  at  Newmarket.  General 
Hunter  followed,  and  though  successful  at 
Piedmont  failed  at  Lynchburg  and  retreated  92 

General  Early  starts  from  Lynchburg  for  a  raid 

on  Washington 92-93 

Lowell's  brigade  ordered  to  watch  the  passes  of 
the  Blue  Ridge.  To  this  end  Major  Forbes 
is  sent  out  with  one  hundred  and  fifty  men, 
and  is  attacked  at  Aldie  by  Colonel  Mosby 
and  captured  with  fifty  of  his  men.  Major 
Forbes'  heroic  charge  single-handed  .  .  .  93~99 

Chaplain  Humphreys  is  chased  six  miles  by 
Colonel  Mosby,  but  eludes  him,  and,  re 
turning  to  look  after  the  wounded,  is  taken 
prisoner  by  a  guerrilla  and  made  to  walk 
thirty  miles  to  Mosby's  headquarters  at 
Rectortown 99-114 


CONDENSED   SKETCH  OF  CONTENTS      vii 

PACK 

All  the  prisoners  are  taken  to  Lynchburg  and 
confined  in  a  tobacco-warehouse.  Sunday, 
July  17,  1864,  Chaplain  Humphreys,  by 
request,  conducts  a  religious  service  in  the 
prison,  and  afterwards  is  sent  to  the  guard 
house  for  preaching  patriotism.  The 
sufferings  of  close  confinement  114-123 

Friday,  July  22d.  The  prisoners  are  packed  in 
box  cars  and  sent  a  six  days'  journey  to 
Georgia.  The  prison  stockade  at  Macon  .  123-132 

Of  the  sixteen  hundred  Union  officers  im- 
prisoned  at  Macon,  three  hundred  are  sent 
to  Charleston  to  be  put  under  the  fire  of 
the  Union  guns 132-137 

Chaplain  Humphreys  is  there  offered  his  free 
dom  if  he  will  go  to  Washington  and  urge 
on  Lincoln  an  exchange  of  prisoners.  But 
he  declines  and  gives  his  reasons  in  an 
address  to  the  prisoners  during  a  religious 
service  conducted  by  him  at  the  request 
of  General  Stoneman  I37~I39 

Prison  conditions  in  Charleston 140-144 

September  2,  1864.  All  chaplains  and  surgeons 
are  released  on  exchange.  The  joy  of  being 
again  under  the  Union  flag 144-145 

Chaplain  Humphreys  at  Hilton  Head  arranges 
for  the  exchange  of  his  messmate,  Lieu 
tenant  C.  W.  Amory,  who  was  dangerously 
sick,  and  through  General  Saxton  secures 
a  slight  change  in  the  range  of  the  Union 
guns  so  that  they  would  not  longer  im 
peril  the  lives  of  the  Union  prisoners  in 
Charleston 145-146 


viii      CONDENSED   SKETCH  OF   CONTENTS 

PACK 

Chaplain  Humphreys  finds  personal  friends  at 
Morris  Island  in  Col.  A.  S.  Hartwell  and 
Lieut.  Col.  C.  B.  Fox,  and  through  their 
identification  gets  his  back  pay  and  takes 
a  steamer  September  I3th  for  New  York 
and  reaches  his  home  in  Dorchester, 
September  iyth 147-148 

There  and  at  Naushon  he  recruits  his  strength 

and  returns  to  the  front  October  I3th.  .  148 

General  Early's  raid  towards  Washington, 
July  7,  1864.  Colonel  Lowell  at  Rockville 
with  the  Second  Massachusetts  Cavalry 
harasses  his  retreat 148-151 

Early's  second  raid  July  25th  makes  Grant 
resolve  to  clear  the  Shenandoah  Valley, 
and  he  gives  the  task  to  General  Sheridan, 
who  delegates  Colonel  Lowell  to  lead  the 
advance  and  gives  him  four  regiments  of 
Regular  Cavalry  to  put  with  his  own. 
Battle  of  the  Opequan.  The  Confederates 
are  sent  whirling  through  Winchester.  The 
Woodstock  races — the  most  brilliant  cav 
alry  fight  of  the  war  151-165 

Battle  of  Cedar  Creek.  General  Sheridan  saves 
the  day.  Lowell's  brilliant  fighting  and 
heroic  death 165-181 

The  Chaplain's  tribute  of  love  and  admiration 
to  his  Colonel — Charles  Russell  Lowell.  He 
gets  the  sculptor  Daniel  C.  French  to 
mould  a  bust  of  him  in  Italian  marble  and 
has  it  placed  in  Memorial  Hall,  Cambridge, 
opposite  the  bust  of  General  Bartlett  by 
the  same  artist,  and  gets  permission  from 


CONDENSED  SKETCH  OF  CONTENTS   ix 

PACK 

James  Russell  Lowell  to  take  from  his 
Commemoration  Ode  the  inscription  under 
the  bust 181-190 

Loudon  County — the  field  of  Mosby's  guerrilla 
bands — is  laid  waste.  The  terrible  destruc- 
tiveness  of  war 190-192 

Winter  camps  in  the  Shenandoah.  At  Charles- 
town  Chaplain  Humphreys  is  entertained  at 
breakfast  by  George  Lafayette  Washing 
ton,  great-grand-nephew  of  the  "  Father  of 
his  Country" 192-194 

December  I9th  to  December  29th.  General 
Torbert  leads  five  thousand  cavalry  to 
Gordonsville  in  the  hardest  expedition  of 
the  whole  war.  Our  sufferings  from  the 
extreme  cold 194-203 

The  last  great  cavalry  expedition  of  the  war. 
Sheridan  leads  his  ten  thousand  troopers 
up  the  Shenandoah,  driving  Early  before 
him,  and  at  Waynesboro  captures  sixteen 
hundred  Confederates;  then  crosses  the 
Blue  Ridge  and  destroys  the  Virginia 
Central  Railroad  and  the  James  River 
Canal,  the  chief  sources  of  Lee's  supplies 
at  Richmond  203-216 

The  dangerous  fording  of  the  North  Anna 
River.  Chaplain  Humphreys  is  forced  to 
the  bottom  of  the  river  by  the  mad  struggles 
of  the  swimming  horses  216-221 

The  column  reaches  White  House  Landing, 
March  i8th,  having  lost  four  thousand 
horses  by  the  exhaustions  of  the  march. 
In  six  days  their  loss  is  replaced  and  Sheri 
dan  joins  Grant  at  Petersburg 221-22 


t   CONDENSED  SKETCH  OF  CONTENTS 

PAGI 

Lee's  desperate  situation  after  Sheridan's 

cutting  off  his  supplies 225-231 

Infantry  battle,  March  3ist,  at  Boydton  Plank 
Road,  in  which  Charles  J.  Mills,  H.  C. 
1 860,  is  killed.  Cavalry  battle,  March  3 1  st, 
at  Dinwiddie  Court  House.  Sheridan's  in 
spiring  presence  at  the  crisis  of  the  battle. 
Lieut.  Augustus  L.  Papanti — later  the 
fashionable  dancing-master  of  Boston — is 
wounded  through  both  feet,  and  Chaplain 
Humphreys  helps  him  off  the  field  to  the 
hospital 231-244 

The  Battle  of  Five  Forks,  April  1st,  strategi 
cally  one  of  the  best-fought  battles  of  the 
war.  Heroism  of  Lieut.  Huntington  F. 
Wolcott.  Chaplain  Humphreys  helps  a 
mortally  wounded  captain  of  the  Fifth 
United  States  Cavalry  off  the  field  and 
cheers  his  last  hours.  Sheridan  fights  like 
a  Viking,  and,  as  at  Cedar  Creek,  turns  a 
panic  into  a  victorious  assault  on  Pickett's 
left  flank.  The  trophies  of  the  day  were 
thirteen  battle-flags  and  six  thousand  pris 
oners  244-256 

Lee  is  forced  out  of  Petersburg  and  Richmond. 
The  cavalry  begins  to  harry  his  retreat. 
Maj.  William  H.  Forbes  rejoins  us  April 
4th.  Davies'  brigade  scoops  up  nearly  a 
thousand  Confederates  at  Paine's  Cross 
roads  '*;  .'; . 257-267 

Battle  of  Sailor's  Creek.  Custer's  famous  charge 
and  the  capture  of  Ewell's  whole  corps  of 
more  than  nine  thousand  men 267-274 


CONDENSED  SKETCH  OF  CONTENTS   xi 

PACK 

The  advance  of  Lee's  retreating  army  approach 
ing  High  Bridge  over  the  Appomattox  finds 
its  way  disputed  by  a  single  battalion  of 
the  Fourth  Massachusetts  Cavalry  under 
Col.  Francis  Washburn  of  Worcester,  who 
falls  gallantly  fighting  in  his  third  desperate 
charge 274-277 

The  sufferings  of  Lee's  army  for  lack  of  pro 
visions  as  told  by  Col.  Robert  Renshaw  of 
Lee's  staff  to  Chaplain  Humphreys ....  277-278 

Gen.  A.  A.  Humphreys  with  the  Second  Corps 
saves  the  bridge  over  the  Appomattox  that 
Lee  tries  to  burn  after  his  retreating  army 
had  crossed.  Lee  asks  Grant's  terms  of  sur 
render,  but  continues  his  retreat.  Sheridan 
seeks  to  check  him  at  Appomattox  and  suc 
ceeds,  capturing  his  supply  trains.  The 
last  day  of  the  war,  April  9th.  Lee's  sur 
render  and  Grant's  magnanimity.  Their 
contrasted  appearance  as  they  parted  .  .  279-293 

The  shadow  cast  over  our  joy  by  the  assassina 
tion  of  Lincoln 293-294 

Tribute  to  Lincoln      294-296 

Notes  1-16 297-340 

Tribute  I.  At  Dedication  of  the  Monument  to 
v  the  Citizen  Soldiers  of  Dorchester  who  died 
for  their  Country 341-358 

Tribute  II.  On  Memorial  Day  to  all  who  had 

died  for  their  Country 359~363 

Tribute  III.  At  Dedication  of  Flags  to  the 

Spirit  of  the  Flag's  Defenders 364-368 

Appendix.  More  intimate  views  of  a  Chap 
lain's  Life  as  revealed  in  his  Diary  and 
Home  Letters 369-428 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

The  Latest  Photograph  of  the  Author    .    .    .  Frontispiece 

Camp  Scenes 3>  4>  7 

Capt.  Francis  Washburn 275 

Camp  Quartette      303 

Capt.  J.  Sewall  Reed,  Capt.  Josiah  S.  Baldwin, 
Maj.  William  H.  Forbes,  Chaplain  Charles  A. 
Humphreys,  Capt.  Goodwin  A.  Stone. 

Brevet  Maj.  Gen.  William  F.  Bartlett 306 

Private  Walter  Humphreys 308 

Capt.  Thomas  B.  Fox 315 

Lieut.  C.  W.  Amory 318 

Gen.  Charles  R.  Lowell 319 

Lieut.  Huntington  Frothingham  Wolcott 320 

Lieut.  Col.  Caspar  Crowninshield 322 

Soldiers'  Monument,  Dorchester 341 


FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND  PRISON 
IN  THE  CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865 


'T^HE  Civil  War  had  already  raged  two  te- 
•••  dious  years  before  the  Union  cause  seemed 
so  desperate  that  I  could  no  longer  keep  from 
enlisting  in  its  defence.  It  was  difficult  from 
the  beginning  to  follow  the  pursuits  of  peace 
while  so  many  were  giving  themselves  to  hard 
and  perilous  service  in  the  field.  But  it  had 
been  easy  to  keep  the  ranks  full  till  the  year 
1863,  when  a  succession  of  defeats  or  fruitless 
victories  checked  voluntary  enlistments,  and 
compelled  the  government  to  resort  to  drafting. 
It  was  a  time  of  great  depression  at  the  North. 
The  Emancipation  Proclamation  had  been  is 
sued  undef  great  complaints  of  an  unconstitu 
tional  use  of  the  war-powers  of  the  government, 
and  as  yet  it  had  not  begun  to  give  any  effective 
aid  to  our  arms.  The  disastrous  defeat  at 
Chancellorsville,  May  1st  and  2d,  had  caused  a 
great  reaction  of  opinion  at  the  North  towards 
compounding  a  peace.  We  had  little  or  no 


2      FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

sympathy  from  other  nations  in  our  struggle; 
and  England — from  whom  we  had  a  right  to 
expect  the  most  encouragement,  especially  after 
the  cause  of  the  Union  was  openly  identified 
with  the  cause  of  freedom  for  the  slave — not 
only  turned  to  us  the  cold  shoulder,  but  became 
quite  demonstrative  in  its  sympathy  with  the 
South.  A  month  after  the  issuing  of  the  Proc 
lamation  of  Emancipation,  the  London  Times 
said:  "We  hold  the  opinion  that  the  cause  of 
the  South  gallantly  fighting  against  the  cruel 
and  desolating  invasion  of  the  North,  is  the 
cause  of  freedom."  Two  months  later  a  prom 
inent  member  of  Parliament  said  publicly: 
"We  cannot  help  seeing  that  while  Abraham 
Lincoln  is  an  incapable  pretender,  Jefferson 
Davis  is  a  bold  statesman.  We  may  well  wish 
to  see  the  American  States  peacefully  separate, 
we  may  well  wisk  to  see  bloodshed  cease  and 
peace  restored,  but  I  contend — and  I  know 
that  the  majority  of  thinking  men  in  England 
agree  with  me — that  the  best  method  towards 
that  end  will  be  the  establishment  of  the  com 
plete  independence  of  the  Confederate  States." 
It  was  a  time  when  every  one  who  loved  his 
country  and  believed  in  its  free  institutions 
must  do  what  he  could  to  sustain  its  armies  in 
the  field;  and,  feeling  that  I  might  be  of  some 
service  in  the  line  of  my  chosen  profession,  I 


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IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  3 

accepted,  while  I  was  yet  in  the  Divinity 
School  at  Cambridge,  the  offer  of  a  Chaplain's 
commission  from  Governor  Andrew,  and  as  soon 
as  I  could  be  ordained  (Note  D  joined  the  Second 
Massachusetts  Cavalry,  a  regiment  composed  of 
two  battalions  recruited  in  Massachusetts,  and 
one  recruited  in  California  chiefly  of  natives 
of  Massachusetts.  Our  Colonel  was  Charles 
Russell  Lowell  of  Cambridge,  a  graduate  of 
Harvard  in  the  Class  of  1854.  He  was  a 
nephew  of  the  poet  James  Russell  Lowell,  and 
had  already  seen  two  years  of  service.  As 
soon  as  he  reached  the  field  with  his  regiment 
of  Massachusetts  Cavalry,  he  was  put  in  com 
mand  of  the  brigade  with  which  it  was  con 
nected,  leaving  our  men  under  the  direct 
leadership  of  Lieut.  Col.  Caspar  Crowninshield 
of  Boston.  When  I  joined  the  regiment  in 
August,  1863,  it  was  brigaded  with  the  I3th 
and  i6th  New  York  Cavalry  regiments,  and 
was,  with  them,  doing  service  as  an  outpost 
picket  before  Washington,  guarding  thirty  or 
forty  miles  of  its  exposed  front,  and  con 
stantly  harassed  by  guerrilla  raids  under  the 
leadership  of  Col.  John  S.  Mosby,  who  called 
his  followers  Partisan  Rangers. 

Our  camp  was  at  Vienna,  about  fifteen  miles 
from  Washington,  and  was  surrounded  with  a 
heavy  abatis  of  felled  trees  branching  outwards 


4      FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

to  guard  against  sudden  attacks  of  guerrillas. 
Here  we  spent  the  winter  of  '63  to  '64,  and 
made  ourselves  as  comfortable  as  we  could,  with 
board  floors  in  our  wall-tents,  and  with  brick 
fireplaces,  and  with  chimneys  made  of  mud  and 
sticks  (Note  2).  Our  chimneys  were  of  necessity 
so  shallow  that  on  windy  days  the  smoke  would 
be  forced  in  gusts  down  the  flue  into  our  tents, 
and  I  have  often  been  driven  out  into  the 
storm  for  self-preservation — though  doubtless 
if  I  had  stayed  in  I  would  have  been  preserved, 
but  only  as  a  smoked  and  dried  specimen  of 
suffering  humanity.  Still  we  had  a  great  deal 
of  satisfaction  in  our  fireplaces,  and  when  the 
nights  were  cold  and  clear,  and  the  logs  blazed 
brightly,  our  tents  often  resounded  with  laugh 
ter  and  song,  and  all  went  merry  as  a  marriage- 
bell  (NoteS). 

A  Chaplain's  duty  is  not  prescribed  by  army 
regulations,  except  so  far  as  to  require  him  to 
hold  service  on  the  Sabbath  when  convenient, 
and  to  bury  the  dead.  But  there  are  many 
ways  in  which  a  Chaplain  can  make  himself 
useful  in  camp,  and  by  alluding  to  some  of 
them  I  shall  give  an  insight  into  the  allevia 
tions  as  well  as  the  trials  of  camp  life. 

I  felt  it  a  pleasure  as  well  as  a  duty  to  visit 
the  men  in  their  tents  and  to  encourage  them 
to  come  freely  to  mine.  By  the  kindness  of 


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IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  5 

friends  at  home  I  had  an  excellent  library  of 
two  hundred  volumes,  gathered  largely  by 
Rev.  Henry  W.  Foote,  H.  C.  1858,  among  the 
attendants  at  King's  Chapel  (Note  4).  These  kept 
both  officers  and  men  in  reading  matter,  and 
lightened  the  tedium  of  many  a  dull  winter's 
day.  Some  lady  friends — chief  among  whom 
was  Mrs.  John  M.  Forbes  of  Milton — knit 
several  hundred  cavalry  mittens,  especially 
adapted  for  holding  the  bridle  rein,  and  I  dis 
tributed  them  through  the  regiment,  and  they 
saved  the  men  from  many  a  bite  of  frost,  and 
filled  a  want  that  the  government  did  not  supply. 
Mrs.  Forbes,  besides  keeping  her  own  fingers 
busy,  kept  six  women  knitting  for  the  regi 
ment.  On  January  12,  1864,  I  received  from 
her  forty  pairs  of  cavalry  mittens,  and — without 
giving  notice  of  their  arrival — I  gave  them  to 
any  who  came  to  my  tent  to  inquire  if  I  had 
"some  of  those  warm  mittens,"  and  they  were 
all  gone  before  night.  From  the  same  bounty 
came  knit  caps  to  protect  the  head  at  night, 
and  these  I  distributed  to  every  officer  in  the 
regiment.  And  besides  these  gifts  Mrs.  Forbes' 
supplies  of  delicacies  for  the  sick  in  our  brigade 
hospital  were  unstinted. 

Besides  being  thus  the  almoner  of  the  over 
flowing  charities  of  friends  at  home,  the  Chap 
lain  could  often  serve  the  men  by  acquainting 


6      FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

these  same  friends  with  the  needs  of  the  soldiers' 
families.  Thus  a  word  to  Rev.  Edward  Everett 
Hale  used  to  send  at  once  his  most  efficient 
lady  visitors  to  the  homes  of  any  of  my  men 
whose  families  in  Boston  needed  aid.  I  could 
draw  at  sight  on  that  rich  bank  of  sympathy 
and  helpfulness.  And  so  elsewhere,  the  need 
had  only  to  be  spoken  and  the  help  was  at  hand. 
As  we  were  very  near  to  Washington,  I  could 
also  send  money  home  for  the  soldiers,  and 
after  pay-day  I  have  sometimes  taken  to  the 
office  of  the  Adams  Express  Company  in  that 
city  more  than  fifteen  hundred  dollars  to  be 
scattered  in  small  sums  among  the  soldiers' 
families.  And  oftentimes,  when  pay-day  was 
delayed,  the  men  would  freely  come  to  the 
Chaplain,  and  the  loan  of  a  few  dollars  would 
frequently  relieve  distress  and  always  make 
the  men  more  contented  with  their  lot.  I  used 
to  have  several  hundred  dollars  thus  floating 
round  in  the  regiment,  and,  though  much  of  it 
got  water-logged  and  sunk  never  to  return,  I 
felt  that  it  had  done  good  service. 

There  were  so  many  Californians  in  my  regi 
ment  who  had  a  great  admiration  for  Rev. 
Thomas  Starr  King  and  attributed  to  his 
patriotic  devotion  and  eloquent  appeals  the 
keeping  of  California  in  the  Union,  that  I 
ordered  from  Black — the  best  Boston  photog- 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  7 

rapher  in  the  sixties — several  dozen  copies  from 
his  negative  of  King,  and  distributed  them 
through  the  companies  from  California. 

A  very  important  labor  that  usually  fell  to 
the  Chaplain  was  to  be  postmaster,  to  receive 
and  distribute  the  mails,  and  to  frank  letters 
for  any  who  could  not  prepay  them.  I  also 
furnished,  freely,  paper  and  envelopes  to  any 
who  applied  for  them,  thinking  it  the  best 
service  I  could  do  to  encourage  the  men  to 
keep  up  a  frequent  correspondence  with  their 
homes. 

The  Chaplain's  ear  became  naturally  a  con 
venient  receptacle  for  all  sorts  of  complaints, 
chief  among  which  were  those  that  grew  out  of 
the  chafing  under  the  severities  of  military  dis 
cipline.  It  was  so  hard  for  a  freeman  nourished 
in  independence  to  submit  absolutely  to  the  will 
of  another — perhaps  no  wiser  than  he;  to  make 
himself  part  of  a  machine  without  questioning 
any  of  its  adaptations  or  uses!  The  Chaplain 
could  often  by  words  of  counsel  or  explanation 
allay  such  discontent — which  frequently  in  the 
weariness  of  camp  life  festers  into  insubor 
dination. 

And  again  the  Chaplain  kept  always  a  kind 
of  confessional,  at  which  men  might  unburden 
their  anxieties  and  doubts,  and  pour  the  story 
of  their  lives  into  sympathetic  ears.  These 


8       FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND  PRISON 

stories  were  often  more  entertaining  than 
books,  and  stranger  than  fiction.  Some  told 
of  hairbreadth  escapes  in  rights  with  Indians  on 
the  border;  others,  of  adventures  among  the 
wild  islanders  of  the  South  Seas.  There  were 
trappers  from  the  Rocky  Mountains,  who  had 
had  bears  for  pets;  tall  lumbermen  from  Maine, 
who  had  dared  the  foaming  rapids  and  the 
raging  torrent;  old  sailors,  who  had  played 
with  the  sea-lion  and  sported  with  the  storm; 
rough-bearded  miners,  who  knew  all  the  tricks 
of  the  gambler,  and  were  familiar  with  the  code 
of  the  duellist.  One  young  man  revealed  to 
me  this  strange  experience:  He  was  born  in 
Massachusetts,  but  before  he  was  fifteen  he 
thought  he  would  shift  for  himself,  and  ran 
away  and  settled  in  Columbia,  S.C.,  working 
in  a  gun-factory  and  joining  a  volunteer  bat 
tery.  When  the  war  broke  out — looking  upon 
it  as  a  kind  of  holiday  frolic,  and  loving  ad 
venture — he  followed  his  battery  to  Charleston, 
where  his  services  were  very  much  in  demand 
as  there  were  few  skilful  gunners  among  the 
Charlestonians.  When  it  was  known  that  the 
"  Star  of  the  West"  was  coming  to  bring  supplies 
to  Fort  Sumter,  he  was  recalled  from  his  own 
to  take  charge  of  the  Cummings  Point  battery, 
and  trained  the  gun  that  made  the  ship  lower 
its  flag.  This  was  the  first  time  that  the 


IN  THE  CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  9 

United  States  flag  had  been  lowered  to  a  hostile 
shot  since  the  War  of  1812,  and,  though  Edward 
Ruffin  of  Virginia  had  been  granted  the  privi 
lege  of  discharging  the  gun,  strange  to  tell,  it 
was  charged  and  trained  by  a  Massachusetts 
man.  He  afterwards  joined  the  Second  South 
Carolina  Infantry,  and  was  ordered  to  Virginia, 
and  helped  to  drive  the  Fourth  Ohio  out  of  the 
very  place  where  we  were  then  encamped.  But 
when  it  came  to  meeting  Massachusetts  regi 
ments  and  perhaps  his  own  brothers  in  the  fight, 
he  felt  the  stronger  drawing  of  the  old  home 
ties,  and  deserted  and  came  within  our  lines  at 
Alexandria  and  was  now  fighting  under  the  old 
flag. 

The  recounting  of  these  and  like  experiences 
was  not  only  intensely  interesting,  but  offered 
many  opportunities  for  the  expression  of  help 
ful  sympathy  and  timely  counsel. 

But  the  most  important  of  the  Chaplain's 
duties  were  in  the  hospital.  It  was  a  delight 
here  also  to  be  the  almoner  of  friends  at  home, 
and  of  the  Sanitary  Commission,  and  to  dis 
tribute  delicacies  among  the  patients  to  relieve 
the  dreary  monotony  of  the  regular  rations. 
Some  ladies  at  home,  among  whom  again  Mrs. 
J.  M.  Forbes  was  chief,  kept  me  supplied  with 
hollow  circular  pillows,  stuffed  with  the  soft 
gossamer  threads  of  the  milkweed,  to  relieve 


10    FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

wounds  and  bed-sores.  I  had  also  a  great 
variety  of  games  and  puzzles  which  were  a 
great  attraction  to  the  convalescents  (Note  5). 
My  books  were  a  constant  delight  to  the 
patients,  and  in  the  severer  cases  of  sickness  I 
could  often  give  comfort  by  reading  myself. 
I  was  once  reading  Whittier's  "Pipes  at  Luck- 
now"  to  a  Scotchman  named  McFarland,  a 
patient  in  the  hospital,  thinking  to  please  him 
with  a  little  of  his  native  dialect,  when  he  inter 
rupted  me  with  the  exclamation,  "I  was  there. " 
Then  he  told  me  that  he  was  one  of  Havelock's 
troops  who  carried  relief  to  the  besieged  British 
garrison,  and  he  had  heard  that  "dearest  of  all 
music  that  the  pipes  at  Lucknow  played." 
Another  patient  wanted  to  read  "Robinson 
Crusoe"  because  he  himself  had  been  on  the 
island  of  Juan  Fernandez,  where  the  adventures 
of  Alexander  Selkirk  are  supposed  to  have 
furnished  much  of  the  material  for  the  story  of 
"Robinson  Crusoe." 

Of  religious  books,  I  furnished  each  patient 
with  what  he  desired — thus  distributing  Cath 
olic  and  Episcopal  prayer-books  and  Methodist 
hymn-books,  and  supplying  to  Frenchmen, 
Italians,  and  Germans  the  New  Testament  in 
their  native  tongues.  With  the  foreigners  in 
the  hospital  I  was  greatly  assisted  by  Mrs. 
Josephine  Shaw  Lowell,  the  wife  of  my  Colonel, 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  1 1 

Charles  Russell  Lowell,  the  brigade  commander, 
and  sister  of  my  classmate  Robert  Gould  Shaw 
(Note  6).  Mrs.  Lowell  was  spending  the  winter 
in  camp  and  visited  the  patients  very  fre 
quently,  and  she  delighted  the  Frenchmen, 
Italians,  and  Germans  by  conversing  with  them 
in  their  own  languages,  that  so  vividly  recalled 
their  early  homes.  Her  presence  in  camp  had 
a  refining  influence  upon  officers  and  men,  and 
in  the  hospital,  by  her  tender  sympathies  and 
beautiful  bearing  and  sweet  simplicity,  she 
was  like  an  angel  visitant.  She  often  assisted 
in  writing  letters  for  the  disabled  soldiers;  and, 
when  I  sought  to  give  comfort  to  the  dying,  her 
presence  soothed  the  pangs  of  parting  with  a 
restful  consciousness  of  woman's  faithful 
watching  and  a  mother's  tender  love. 

"Whispered  low  the  dying  soldier,  pressed  her  hand  and 

faintly  smiled: 
'Was  that  pitying  face  his  mother's?     Did  she  watch 

beside  her  child?' 
Every  voiceless  word  with  meaning  her  woman's  heart 

supplied, 
With  her  kiss  upon  his  forehead,  'Mother!'  murmured 

he  and  died." 

At  such  times  I  have  felt  most  vividly  what 
a  delightful  trait  in  woman's  character  is  this 
love  of  serving  others.  What  a  blessing  and 


12     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND  PRISON 

joy    was    woman's    nursing    to    the    sick    and 
wounded  soldiers! 

"Not  wholly  lost,  O  Father,  is  this  evil  world  of  ours; 
Upward  through  its  blood  and  ashes  spring  afresh  the 

Eden  flowers; 
From  its  smoking  hell  of  battle  Love  and  Pity  send  their 

prayer, 
And  still  thy  white-winged  angels  hover  dimly  in  our  air." 

The  chief  of  the  specified  duties  of  the  Chap 
lain — to  hold  religious  services — was  the  one  it 
was  hardest  to  fulfil,  by  reason  of  the  diffi 
culty  of  finding  any  convenient  and  comfort 
able  place  of  meeting.  I  once  succeeded  in 
getting  a  hospital-tent  for  that  purpose,  and 
with  the  help  of  two  of  our  men  who  had  been 
carpenters  I  made  some  benches  for  the  com 
fort  of  my  audience,  but  before  Sunday  came 
the  tent  was  moved  away  to  be  used  for  a 
court-martial,  and  I  never  recovered  it.  Once 
I  took  my  colored  servant  and  my  little  hatchet, 
and  went  out  at  nine  o'clock  Sunday  morning, 
cleared  away  the  underbrush  from  a  small  am 
phitheatre  in  a  neighboring  wood,  and  at  ten 
o'clock  the  chief  bugler  sounded  the  church  call 
at  the  camp  and  then  again  at  the  place  of 
meeting.  Somehow  it  did  not  seem  strange, 
but  the  most  natural  place  in  which  to  worship. 
"The  groves  were  God's  first  temples."  The 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  13 

service  was  as  follows:  I.  I  repeated  the  sen 
tence  "The  Lord  is  in  his  holy  temple;  let  all 
the  earth  keep  silence  before  him."  II.  After 
a  few  moments  of  silent  prayer  I  repeated  the 
first  stanza  of  Watt's  hymn  "  From  all  that  dwell 
below  the  skies/'  then  led  the  singing  of  it  to  the 
tune  "Old  Hundred,"  in  which  all  joined. 
III.  Scripture  reading — Matt.  vii.  7-27.  IV. 
Prayer.  V.  Address  on  three  things  that 
abide  — Truth,  Goodness,  God.  VI.  Wesley's 
hymn  "Love  divine,  all  love  excelling."  VII. 
Benediction.  The  whole  service  took  less 
than  half  an  hour.  The  audience  stood  for  the 
singing  and  benediction,  but  sat  on  the  ground 
for  the  rest  of  the  service.  All  uncovered  dur 
ing  the  prayer  and  benediction.  This  was  my 
first  and  last  service  in  that  place.  The  weather 
was  never  again  such  that  I  could  use  it.  Then 
I  resorted  to  a  barn  near  the  camp,  the  auditors 
sitting  on  the  beams  and  floor,  the  band  ac 
companying  the  singing,  and  the  cattle  filling 
in  the  pauses  with  their  lowing.  But  even  with 
the  shelter  of  the  barn  it  was  often  too  cold  for 
the  band  to  play,  and  we  were  as  likely  to  be 
out  on  a  raid  Sunday  as  other  days.  Still,  with 
all  these  inconveniences  and  interruptions,  the 
simple  presence  of  the  Chaplain  made  Sunday 
a  little  different  from  other  days,  and  frequently 
the  bugle-call  to  worship  revived  memories  of 


14     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

the  church  bells  at  home.  My  three  services 
on  Sunday  in  the  three  wards  of  the  brigade 
hospital  were  seldom  interrupted.  As  I  fin 
ished  each  service  it  was  very  grateful  to  me  to 
hear  the  "Thank  you"  gasped  by  the  feeble 
patients  on  their  various  couches.  It  was  a 
great  joy  to  pour  even  one  drop  of  comfort  into 
the  bitter  cup  that  so  many  had  to  drain  who 
threw  in  their  lot  with  their  country's  peril. 
Sometimes  besides  the  morning  service  in  the 
barn  and  the  three  services  in  the  hospital  there 
was  a  regimental  service  at  dress  parade  in  the 
afternoon,  and  frequently  a  soldier's  funeral 
added  to  the  solemnity  of  the  Sabbath  hours. 
Union  and  Confederate  were  alike  in  their  hos 
pital  treatment  and  their  funeral  honors,  and  I 
remember  one  mother  of  a  Confederate  coming 
to  get  some  of  the  earth  from  his  grave,  vividly 
revealing  that  there  were  bleeding  hearts  and 
sacred  devotions  at  the  South  as  well  as  at  the 
North.  As  to  my  work  as  a  Chaplain,  I  find 
the  fullest  expression  of  it  in  a  letter  which  I 
wrote  from  camp  to  Rev.  Edward  H.  Hall, 
who  had  taken  part  in  my  ordination.  This  is 
the  letter.  It  was  returned  to  me  after  his 
death  and  more  than  fifty  years  after  it  was 
written,  having  been  found  among  his  cherished 
papers. 


IN  THE  CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  15 

CAVALRY  CAMP, 
VIENNA,  VA.,  April  28,  '64. 
Rev.  EDWARD  H.  HALL: 

Dear  Friend, — Your  very  kind  letter  of  Feb.  4th  was 
received,  and  would  have  been  answered  promptly  but 
that  the  disaster  to  my  regiment  in  the  skirmish  at 
Drainesville  broke  up  all  my  plans  and  took  me  to  Dor 
chester  with  Mrs.  Reed,  wife  of  the  captain  who  was 
killed.  I  have  not  felt  like  answering  it  till  now,  because 
I  have  been  diffident  as  to  my  ability  to  relate  to  you  any 
experience  of  interest.  I  am  now  compelled  by  the 
necessity  of  the  time  to  write  to  you  at  once  however 
poor  my  letter  may  be.  For  the  armies  are  beginning 
to  move,  and  we  must  be  ready  to  move  at  a  moment's 
notice,  and  I  may  not  have  another  chance  to  write  for 
a  long  time.  Burnside's  army  corps  passed  through  here 
yesterday  on  its  way  to  Leesburg  and  the  gaps  in  the 
Blue  Ridge,  and  everything  looks  like  active  campaigning. 
God  speed  the  right. 

You  spoke  in  your  letter  very  kindly  of  my  Visitation 
part.  It  was  the  open  expression  of  my  deepest  convic 
tions;  convictions  which  had  been  rather  indefinite  in 
my  mind  for  years,  and  had  been  seeking  expression.  I 
knew  that  I  should  write  on  that  subject  more  than  a 
year  before  Visitation,  and  the  thought  of  the  whole  year 
had  been  turned  in  that  direction.  I  tell  you  this  that 
you  may  know  how  inadequate  the  expression  was  to 
the  thought  in  my  soul.  I  am  glad  of  your  sympathy  in 
these  feelings.  I  think  it  is  to  be  the  work  of  the  rising 
generation  of  liberal  thinkers  in  some  measure  to  free 
human  thought  from  the  bondage  to  the  letter  which 
now  cripples  it,  and  to  turn  it  towards  those  inner  icve- 
lations  where  God  speaks  directly  to  the  soul;  to  unfetter 
human  aspirations,  to  give  dignity  to  human  feelings  and 


16    FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

sanctity  to  human  hopes;  in  a  word,  to  find  God  in  human 
ity  rather  than  in  the  leaves  of  a  book.  How  absurd  to 
stop  with  the  book  when  it  is  itself  only  an  incomplete 
record  of  human  struggles  and  aspirations  towards  God! 
I  believe,  however,  that  we  should  have  nothing  to  com 
plain  of  if  the  Bible  was  regarded  in  this  light  by  every 
one;  for  thus  interpreted  it  is  an  all-sufficient  guide  in  the 
path  of  right,  and  an  all-powerful  incentive  in  the  fulfil 
ment  of  duty. 

You  enquire  as  to  my  method  of  labor.  I  have  very 
little  method,  but  from  necessity  more  than  from  choice. 
If  there  is  any  single  rule  that  runs  through  all  my  work 
it  is  this — to  be  kind  to  all.  If  this  seems  to  be  a  low 
aim  for  one  who  was  ordained  to  speak  eternal  truths,  my 
only  apology  is  my  youth.  Exhortation  and  counsel  are 
more  fitted  for  maturity  and  age.  I  think  my  work  will 
be  surer  if  I  do  not  assume  any  premature  dignity  or 
unwarranted  authority,  but  trust  to  the  pervasive  influ 
ence  of  charity  and  love.  I  would  rather  have  men  say 
of  me:  "I  wonder  what  faith  he  belongs  to.  It  must  be 
pretty  near  the  right  one,  he  is  such  a  nice  fellow,"  than 
that  they  should  say,  "Well,  our  Chaplain  made  out  a 
pretty  strong  case  for  his  belief;  you  could  hardly  help 
believing  that  what  he  said  was  true."  I  prefer  to  work 
by  my  life  than  by  my  speech;  I  rely  more  on  the  little 
kindnesses,  attentions,  and  words  of  cheer  of  every  day 
than  on  Sunday  preaching,  or  week-day  advice  and 
counsel,  though  I  do  not  neglect  the  latter,  nor  consciously 
undervalue  them.  The  work  of  some  ministers  is  like  the 
sunlight  with  healing  in  its  beams  and  nourishment  and 
strength  for  every  plant  and  tender  herb  that  comes 
within  the  scope  of  its  influences.  The  work  of  others  is 
like  the  burning  fiery  furnace  seven  times  heated  mould 
ing  everything  to  its  own  will.  My  aim  is  to  be  like  the 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  17 

former.  The  routine  of  my  labor  is  like  this:  I  hold  a 
service  every  Sunday  morning  in  a  barn  floor  near  by,  to 
which  any  one  is  free  to  come;  there  is  no  compulsion. 
I  do  not  have  a  large  audience,  as  I  have  never  made  it  a 
special  aim  to  increase  it,  I  am  so  diffident  of  any  ability 
in  this  line,  or,  I  should  say,  so  confident  of  my  inability. 
I  may  say  this — my  services  are  very  interesting  to  those 
who  have  any  appreciation  of  religious  duty  and  any  taste 
for  religious  services.  My  aim  in  preaching  is  to  elevate 
rather  than  to  convert.  I  appeal  to  what  is  good  and  true 
in  my  auditors.  If  any  are  not  already  turned  towards 
the  good  and  the  true,  I  suppose  with  them  my  preaching 
is  vain,  and  I  frankly  acknowledge  my  weakness  in  this 
direction.  I  have  the  help  of  a  good  brass  band  in  the 
service,  and  oftentimes  the  exercises  have  an  unwonted 
solemnity  with  that  help.  I  believe  music  may  be  made 
the  handmaid  of  religion.  I  always  speak  without  notes 
though  never  without  full  preparation,  and  never  more 
than  fifteen  minutes.  I  use  J.  G.  Forman's  little  hymn 
and  service  book  for  my  introductory  sentences  and  my 
hymns.  We  sing  together  one  hymn  always.  The  little 
interruptions  (from  the  basement)  of  cows  mooing,  horses 
neighing,  and  dogs  fighting,  do  not  trouble  us  much.  I 
have  succeeded  thus  much  at  least — in  making  the  men 
feel  that  there  is  a  deep  and  solemn  reality  in  religion 
whether  they  appreciate  what  it  is  or  not.  After  the 
regimental  service  I  go  to  the  brigade  hospital  and  hold  a 
service  in  one  or  another  of  the  wards,  and  visit  all  the 
wards,  speaking  to  every  patient.  This  is  all  the  regular 
Sabbath  work.  The  remainder  of  the  day  is  like  the  rest 
of  the  week.  The  week-days  are  spent  in  visiting  the 
hospital,  caring  for  the  mail,  and  receiving  callers,  the 
latter  taking  up  the  longest  time.  I  do  not  make  many 
calls  on  the  men  in  their  quarters;  in  military  life  it  has 


1 8    FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND  PRISON 

too  much  the  appearance  of  intrusion.  The  men  do  not 
expect  it  and  are  seldom  prepared  for  it.  But  they  call 
freely  on  me,  bringing  their  complaints,  or  revealing  their 
experiences,  which  are  often  intensely  interesting.  I 
have  had  an  ample  library  all  winter,  and  an  unlimited 
number  of  games  of  various  kinds.  I  have  kept  the 
men  supplied  with  stamps  even  when  they  could  not  pay 
for  them.  I  have  sent  to  Washington  daily  by  mail- 
carriers  for  little  things  that  the  men  have  wanted.  The 
only  general  result  that  I  have  seen  from  my  labor  is 
that  there  is  a  little  less  open  profanity  and  a  great  deal 
less  complaining  than  when  I  first  came.  The  results  in 
individual  cases  of  course  I  cannot  measure.  I  do  not 
believe  in  any  adequate  gage  of  moral  influence  like  that 
which  is  flaunted  before  our  eyes  by  evangelical  sectarians 
in  statistics  of  conversions  and  degrees  of  conversion. 
The  results  of  my  work  if  they  could  be  chronicled  would 
be — a  little  more  kindness  of  heart  in  one,  a  little  more 
elevation  of  purpose  in  another;  a  little  more  faith  here, 
a  little  more  charity  there;  here  more  reverence  and  there 
more  truth.  I  trust  that  some  such  germs  of  good  will 
grow  and  thrive  in  my  daily  path. 

You  ask  about  my  relation  to  the  officers.  They  are 
of  the  pleasantest  kind.  I  have  their  respect  and  so  far 
as  I  know  their  confidence.  I  have  never  asked  anything 
of  any  of  them  that  they  have  not  readily  granted.  I 
am  as  a  brother  among  them,  not  assuming  any  dignity 
from  my  profession  except  when  I  speak  on  Sundays. 
I  am  too  young  to  rebuke  them,  too  inexperienced  to 
advise  them  unasked;  but  when  on  the  Sabbath  I  speak 
in  the  name  of  my  office,  in  the  name  of  truth  and  of  God, 
then  I  can  do  anything. 

I  am  not  much  on  tract-distributing;  how  was  it  with 
you?  I  half  suspect  that  this  is  a  failing  in  me;  yet  it 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  19 

goes  against  my  feelings  unless  a  very  plain  way  is  open 
for  it.  I  have  never  held  a  prayer-meeting,  partly 
because  I  had  no  place,  partly  because  I  saw  little  advan 
tage  to  come  of  it.  Of  late  I  have  been  trying  to  serve 
the  Lord  on  horseback,  following  the  men  into  the  field, 
lying  at  night  under  the  tented  sky, — which  at  this  season, 
I  assure  you,  is  not  so  comfortable  as  canvas, — charging 
with  them  into  the  ranks  of  the  enemy,  and  sharing  all 
the  dangers  and  exposure  of  active  service.  I  carry  no 
arms,  but  try  by  a  cheerful  courage  to  add  a  little  to  the 
effectiveness  of  those  who  do.  Please  let  me  hear  from 
you. 

C.  A.  HUMPHREYS, 

Chap.  2d  Mass.  Cav, 

The  hardest  duty  that  ever  fell  to  my  lot 
as  Chaplain  was  to  prepare  a  deserter  to  die. 
He  was  one  of  our  own  regiment,  and  born  in 
Massachusetts,  but  had  early  in  life  gone  to 
California,  where  he  led  a  wild  and  reckless 
career  till  he  enlisted  and  came  East.  Now 
he  had  yielded  to  the  fascinations  of  a  Southern 
girl  and  been  induced  to  desert,  and  was 
captured  while  fighting  against  us  with  a  band 
of  guerrillas.  This  offence  was  of  course  un 
pardonable  in  martial  law;  yet,  as  he  chose  me 
for  his  counsel  at  the  trial  by  drum-head  court- 
martial,  I  pleaded,  in  extenuation,  his  youth 
and  the  blandishments  of  the  Southern  beauty, 
but  to  no  effect.  Perhaps  one  reason  why  I  did 
not  win  the  case  was  that  the  opposing  counsel 


20    FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

was  Lewis  S.  Dabney,  whose  legal  acumen 
made  him  then  Judge  Advocate,  and  later  made 
him  one  of  the  leaders  of  the  Bar  in  Boston. 
Still  I  had  to  admit  in  my  own  mind  that  in 
the  existing  military  situation  the  sentence  of 
death  must  be  pronounced.  The  poor  victim 
chose  to  lean  on  my  arm  as  he  walked  to  execu 
tion  behind  his  own  coffin  borne  by  his  old 
messmates,  while  the  band  marched  beside 
playing  a  funeral  dirge.  And  he  leaned  still 
more  closely  on  my  faith  that,  though  his  coun 
try  could  not  forgive  him,  beset  as  she  was  with 
enemies,  God  would  forgive  if  he  was  truly 
penitent;  and  the  thought  appealed  to  the 
native  nobleness  of  his  nature,  and  awoke  in 
him  the  desire  even  then  to  redeem  himself 
and  to  serve  the  cause  that  he  had  betrayed. 
And  the  more  he  revolved  this  in  his  mind,  the 
more  he  felt  the  inspiration  of  noble  feeling, 
and,  being  permitted  to  speak  a  few  last  words 
to  his  fellow-soldiers  who  were  drawn  up  on 
three  sides  of  a  hollow  square  to  witness  the 
execution,  he  said:  "Comrades!  I  want  to 
acknowledge  that  I  am  guilty  and  that  my 
punishment  is  just.  But  I  want  also  that  you 
should  know  that  I  did  not  desert  because  I 
lost  faith  in  our  cause.  I  believe  we  are  on 
the  right  side,  and  I  think  it  will  succeed.  But 
take  warning  from  my  example,  and  whatever 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  21 

comes  do  not  desert  the  old  flag  for  which  I  am 
proud  to  die."  Everything  being  now  ready, 
I  offered  prayer  with  him  and  commended  him 
to  the  mercy  of  God;  then  I  bound  the  hand 
kerchief  over  his  eyes,  and  at  his  request  asked 
the  marksmen  to  aim  steadily  and  at  his  heart. 
Then  shaking  hands  with  him  in  farewell,  I 
said,  "Now  die  like  a  man."  He  sat  down 
upon  the  foot  of  his  coffin  in  perfect  composure, 
and  said,  "I  am  ready."  Fronting  him  were 
six  men  in  line,  with  carbines,  five  of  which 
were  loaded.  Each  man  could  persuade  him 
self  that  his  own  carbine  was  the  unloaded  one, 
and  so  was  relieved  from  the  otherwise  neces 
sary  conclusion  that  he  had  shot  his  fellow. 
The  sergeant  in  command  of  the  shooting- 
squad  gave  the  order — "Ready!  Aim!  Fire!" 
and  the  deserter  in  one  moment  was  dead. 
The  lesson  of  his  punishment  had  never  to  be 
repeated  in  our  brigade. 

All  this  was  Sunday  morning.  I  did  not 
feel  like  holding  a  service  after  it,  and  thought 
the  ceremony  of  execution  had  preached  more 
effectively  than  /  could.  One  of  the  members 
of  E  Company,  to  which  the  deserter  had 
belonged,  said  to  me,  "I  wonder  how  you  got 
enough  influence  over  him  to  lead  him  to  de 
clare  that  he  died  believing  our  cause  was  just." 
I  replied,  "It  was  not  7  that  did  it  but  the 


22     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

awful  presence  of  death."  That  made  him  see 
clearly  the  truth  and  his  own  terrible  mistake. 
I  doubt  not  that  the  intense  self-examination 
and  marvellous  insight  of  his  last  hours  influ 
enced  his  character  more  than  any  other  hours 
of  his  life,  indeed  more  than  whole  years  of 
thoughtless  wandering  and  heedless  sin.  I 
was  glad  that  I  could  induce  him  to  keep  up 
such  good  courage  and  die  in  so  true  a  spirit, 
but  hope  I  shall  never  have  to  witness  such 
another  scene. 

Perhaps  harder  than  this  duty  of  attending 
the  execution  was  the  duty  of  writing  of  it  to 
the  deserter's  mother.  But  I  could  speak  so 
sincerely  in  praise  of  her  son's  brave  ending 
after  his  full  repentance  that  the  hard  duty  was 
lightened,  and  I  doubt  not  she  cherished  with 
a  forgiving  affection  the  little  tokens  of  his 
remembrance  which  he  asked  me  to  send. 

It  was  a  great  comfort  while  engaged  in  these 
difficult  and  oftentimes  discouraging  labors  of 
a  chaplain's  life  to  get  cheering  letters  from 
friends  at  home.  Among  these  I  prize  most 
highly  one  from  Rev.  James  Walker,  ex-presi 
dent  of  Harvard  College,  in  which  he  wrote: — 

You  have  often  heard  me  say  how  little  confidence  I 
have  in  the  usefulness  of  chaplains,  taken  as  they  rise. 
It  is  not  enough  that  their  heart  is  in  the  work;  they  must 
have  a  much  larger  share  of  practical  sense  than  com- 


IN  THE  CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  23 

monly  falls  to  the  lot  of  ministers,  to  be  able  to  adjust 
themselves  to  their  new  and  strange  relations,  or  make 
much  of  their  anomalous  parish.  Still  I  have  never  had 
any  fear  as  to  your  success.  I  arn  sure  you  will  leave 
untried  no  means  of  making  officers  and  men  feel  that 
you  can  be  serviceable  to  them  in  many  ways.  Ours, 
you  know,  is  a  profession  which,  unlike  law  or  medicine, 
must  first  make  men  feel  the  want  of  what  we  can  do 
before  we  can  do  it.  Meanwhile  you  must  not  give  up, 
or  lose  heart,  if  in  stormy  weather,  or  a  dark  night,  or  a 
hard  chase  to  no  purpose,  you  sometimes  do  hear  a  trooper 
swear.  Believe  that  a  quiet,  persistent,  tender  fidelity 
always  wins  the  day. 

While  you  are  serving  the  Lord  on  horseback  I  sup 
pose  you  sometimes  turn  back  your  thoughts  to  those 
of  us  who  are  trying  to  serve  him  in  our  studies.  I  ven 
ture  to  send  you  three  copies  of  my  'Address  to  the 
Alumni.'  You  can  give  the  surplus  to  any  Cambridge 
men  who  care  to  read  them;  or  you  may  use  them  to  kindle 
your  camp-fires.  They  are  not  very  inflammable,  but 
they  are  very  dry. 

Thus  far  my  poor  lame  fingers  have  been  tolerably 
submissive  in  holding  the  pen;  but  they  are  beginning 
to  be  mutinous,  and  I  must,  therefore,  conclude  by 
assuring  you  that  I  am,  with  much  regard, 

Very  truly  and  affectionately  yours, 

JAMES  WALKER." 

Now  let  us  leave  the  camp  and  go  out  on  a 
raid  after  guerrillas;  for  I  wish  to  exhibit  all 
sides  of  a  soldier's  life,  and  this  was  our  fre 
quent  occupation  for  a  whole  year  of  our  service. 


24    FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

I  will  select  one  that  we  made  only  a  few  days 
before  the  grand  movement  of  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac  across  the  Rapidan.  It  was  doubt 
less  a  preparatory  reconnoissance  to  make  it 
certain  that  there  was  no  especial  danger  to 
Washington  in  Grant's  uncovering  its  front  as 
he  was  about  to  do. 

On  the  morning  of  April  18,  1864,  while  I 
was  writing  in  my  tent,  I  heard  the  bugle-call 
"Boots  and  Saddles,"  and  learned  that  a  large 
detachment  of  the  brigade  was  just  starting  on 
a  scout.  Getting  permission  to  go,  I  had  two 
days'  rations  and  three  days'  forage  put  up  at 
once  and  was  ready  in  about  ten  minutes, 
and  by  a  short  gallop  caught  up  with  the  column 
and  joined  Colonel  Lowell,  who  was  riding  at 
the  head.  With  him  was  the  noted  traveller 
Herman  Melville,  who  had  charmed  all  lovers 
of  the  wild  and  picturesque  by  his  accounts  of 
his  adventures  among  the  savage  islanders  in 
the  Pacific  Seas  in  the  books  "Omoo"  and 
"Typee,"  which  I  had  in  my  camp  library, 
and  who  shared  with  Richard  H.  Dana  the  hon 
orable  distinction  of  a  pioneer  in  the  work  of 
lifting  into  popular  literature  the  life  of  the 
merchant  seaman.  He  was  out  now  to  learn 
something  of  the  soldier's  life  and  to  see  a  little 
campaigning  with  his  own  eyes,  preparatory 
to  the  writing  of  the  book  which  appeared  two 


IN  THE  CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  25 

years  later,  entitled  "Battle  Pieces  and  Aspects 
of  War"  (Note?). 

We  rode  till  four  o'clock,  stopping  every  hour 
and  a  half  to  rest  the  horses  a  few  minutes,  and 
adjust  the  saddles  to  prevent  galling.  At  four 
we  stopped  at  Ball's  Mill  on  Goose  Creek  to  feed. 
A  cavalryman  always  attends  to  his  horse 
first;  so  I  took  the  saddle  from  Jaques — whom 
my  fellow-officer  Lewis  S.  Dabney  very  dis 
respectfully  called  the  "Parson's  Old  Cob"- 
and  let  him  roll  to  refresh  himself,  and  gave  him 
a  small  feed  of  oats.  Then  I  cooked  some  ham 
on  the  end  of  a  stick  over  a  fire  of  cornstalks,  and 
sat  down  on  a  stone,  and  with  dry  bread  made 
my  dinner.  At  five  we  started  again  and 
crossed  Goose  Creek,  which,  though  swollen 
so  that  a  man  could  not  stand  in  the  current, 
was  just  fordable  for  cavalry.  In  attempting 
to  keep  my  feet  out  of  the  water  I  carelessly 
struck  my  spurs  into  my  horse,  and  for  a  few 
moments  he  plunged  and  dashed  around  in  a 
way  that  threatened  immediate  and  complete 
immersion  to  both  horse  and  rider.  But  I 
got  through  safely,  and  at  dusk  we  approached 
the  city  of  Leesburg,  the  hot-bed  of  secession- 
ism  in  those  parts.  It  was  about  twenty-five 
miles  from  our  camp  at  Vienna,  and  no  Union 
troops  had  visited  it  that  season.  We  ex 
pected  that  it  would  be  full  of  Confederates; 


26    FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND  PRISON 

and  surely  enough,  when  the  advanced  guard 
approached  they  were  fired  upon,  and  word 
was  sent  back  to  us  that  the  enemy  was  drawn 
up  in  line  in  the  woods  just  before  us.  Colonel 
Lowell,  without  waiting  to  ascertain  their  num 
bers,  at  once  ordered  the  charge,  and  the  whole 
column  immediately  broke  into  a  trot  and  then 
into  a  gallop.  It  was  my  first  taste  of  the  in 
toxication  of  battle.  I  had  often  felt  the  charm 
of  adventure  as  we  scouted  frequently  under 
the  starry  canopy  of  night  or  when  the  moon 
lit  our  way,  and  Bryant's  "Song  of  Marion's 
Men"  came  to  mind  and  we  felt  that  the  Revo 
lutionary  hero  had  a  worthy  successor  in  our 
Colonel  Lowell: — 

"Well  knows  the  fair  and  friendly  moon 

The  band  that  Marion  leads, 
The  glitter  of  their  carbines, 

The  scampering  of  their  steeds. 
'Tis  life  to  guide  the  fiery  barb 

Across  the  moonlight  plain, 
'Tis  life  to  feel  the  night-wind 

That  lifts  his  tossing  mane." 

Although  I  had  no  love  of  war  and  no  arms 
with  which  to  fight,  yet  as  I  rode  along  with  the 
column  I  felt  also  something  of  the  fascination 
of  danger,  and  could  partly  appreciate  the  spirit 
of  the  old  cavaliers  as  they  sung: — 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  27 

"0  for  a  steed  of  matchless  speed, 

And  sword  of  metal  keen! 
All  else  to  noble  hearts  is  dross, 

All  else  on  earth  is  mean. 
The  neighing  of  the  war-horse  proud, 

The  rolling  of  the  drum, 
The  clangor  of  the  trumpet  loud 

Are  sounds  from  heaven  that  come. 
And  oh!  the  thundering  press  of  knights, 

When  as  their  war-cries  swell, 
May  tole  from  heaven  an  angel  bright 

Or  rouse  a  fiend  from  hell. 

"Then  mount,  then  mount,  brave  gallants  all, 

And  don  your  helms  amain, 
Death's  couriers — Fame  and  Honor — call 

Us  to  the  field  again. 
No  'woman's'  tears  shall  fill  our  eyes 

When  the  sword-hilt's  in  our  hand, 
Heart-whole,  we'll  part,  and  nowhit  sigh 

For  the  fairest  of  the  land. 
Let  piping  swain  and  craven  wight 

Thus  weep  and  puling  cry, 
Our  business  is  like  men  to  fight, 

And  hero-like  to  die." 

It  was  very  exciting  to  hear  the  commands — 
"Steady!  Wait  for  orders!  By  platoons  left, 
gallop,  march !  By  fours,  march ! " — all  shouted 
at  the  top  of  the  voice,  above  the  noise  of  the 
column,  itself  almost  deafening  with  the  clatter 
ing  of  the  sabres  and  the  thumping  of  the 
horses'  hoofs  upon  the  stony  pike.  At  such 


28     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

times  one  is  borne  along  in  the  rush  and  tumult 
of  the  onset,  and  can  hardly  think  of  fear. 

"When  banners  are  waving 

And  sabres  are  glancing, 
When  captains  are  shouting 

And  war-horses  prancing, 
When  cannon  are  roaring 

And  swift  bullets  flying, 
He  that  would  honor  win 

Must  not  then  fear  dying. 

"Though  shafts  fly  so  thick 

That  it  seems  to  be  snowing, 
Though  streamlets  with  blood, 

More  than  water,  are  flowing, 
Though  with  sabre  and  bullet 

The  bravest  are  dying, 
We'll  think  of  our  homes,  but 

We'll  ne'er  think  of  flying." 

The  first  squadron  was  dashing  on  with  drawn 
sabres,  the  rest  were  holding  their  carbines  in 
their  hands  ready  to  fire.  Nothing  could  stand 
against  the  fury  of  the  charge.  The  Confed 
erates  fired  a  few  shots,  then  scattered  through 
the  woods  like  leaves  before  the  wind,  and  we 
dashed  on  into  Leesburg.  But  the  first  shot 
had  given  the  alarm;  and  with  all  our  search 
ing  we  could  not  find  a  graycoat.  We  re 
mained,  that  night,  just  outside  the  town,  but 
did  not  dare  to  unsaddle  nor  to  light  fires,  as 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  29 

we  were  in  the  heart  of  the  enemy's  country, 
and  the  frequent  signal-rockets  from  the  hill 
tops  in  front  of  us  showed  that  the  Confeder 
ates  were  gathering  their  clans.  The  night 
was  very  cold,  too  cold  to  sleep;  and  besides 
there  were  several  attacks  upon  our  pickets 
that  brought  us  to  our  feet  and  made  us  stand 
to  horse  till  the  danger  was  past.  It  was  about 
as  easy  to  stand  as  to  lie  down  that  night.  If 
we  lay  down,  it  was  at  our  horses'  feet  with 
the  bridle  rein  in  our  hands;  and — not  to  speak 
of  their  uneasy  stamping  with  their  iron  shoes 
upon  the  ground  which  was  our  bed, — if 
they  got  lonesome  they  would  poke  us  with 
their  noses,  or  if  they  got  tired  standing 
they  would  lie  down  at  our  side — either  of 
which  movements  was,  to  say  the  least,  not 
conducive  to  sleep.  It  seems  a  wonder  that — 
crowded  together  as  we  were,  the  horses  stand 
ing  in  column  four-abreast  in  a  narrow  road— 
none  of  us  were  trampled  under  their  feet. 
But  the  faithful  animals  seemed  to  appreciate 
the  situation,  and  when  they  moved,  paid  due 
regard  to  their  sleeping  masters. 

In  the  early  morning,  small  scouting  parties 
were  sent  out  in  various  directions  to  scour  the 
woods  and  pick  up  any  of  Mosby's  men  that 
might  be  hiding  in  the  vicinity.  In  a  short 
time  they  brought  in  one  officer  and  ten  men, 


30    FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

all  mounted — which  was  quite  a  catch,  con 
sidering  the  wooded  nature  of  the  country  and 
the  open  chances  of  escape.  At  ten  o'clock  we 
gave  up  all  expectation  of  finding  any  more 
guerrillas  in  that  region,  and  started  back, 
recrossed  Goose  Creek,  and  went  into  camp  for 
rest  and  refreshment.  While  we  were  quietly 
dining  at  four  o'clock,  a  friendly  citizen  brought 
in  word  that  Mosby  and  one  man  had  just 
passed  through  a  field  not  two  miles  away  from 
us.  It  seemed  like  searching  for  a  needle  in  a 
haystack  to  chase  Mosby  in  that  hilly  forest- 
country,  yet  Colonel  Lowell  made  the  attempt. 
"Boots  and  Saddles"  was  at  once  sounded, 
and,  with  abbreviated  dinners,  in  a  few  min 
utes  we  were  off.  A  lieutenant  and  ten  men 
were  sent  to  try  to  get  on  Mosby's  trail,  while 
the  main  column  took  a  direct  line  across  the 
country,  if  possible  to  head  him  off.  Flankers 
were  thrown  out  a  distance  of  half  a  mile  on 
either  side  of  the  advancing  column,  that  we 
might  sweep  as  wide  an  extent  of  country  as 
possible.  We  struck  for  the  pike  that  runs 
through  Middleburg  to  Mosby's  headquarters 
near  Rectortown,  but  found,  when  we  reached 
it,  that  Mosby  had  passed  over  it  three-quar 
ters  of  an  hour  before.  That  was  aggravating 
enough;  yet  there  was  nothing  to  be  done 
but  to  turn  back  to  Ball's  Mill  and  go  into 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  31 

camp  for  the  night.  Now,  for  the  first  time 
since  we  started  out,  we  had  an  opportunity  to 
boil  coffee  and  make  ourselves  comfortable  with 
fires,  and  to  unsaddle  our  horses  and  give  them 
a  refreshing  rest.  I  made  a  luxurious  bed  of 
boards  and  dried  leaves  for  Colonel  Lowell  and 
myself,  and  we  lay  down  for  the  night,  after 
the  Colonel  had  sent  a  dismounted  party 
towards  Leesburg  to  take  the  city  by  surprise. 
He  had  learned  by  an  intercepted  letter  that  a 
Confederate  soldier  was  to  be  married  that 
evening  in  Leesburg,  and  that  the  beauty  and 
chivalry  of  the  country  round  might  be  ex 
pected;  and,  though  he  did  not  care  to  forbid 
the  banns  nor  to  start  a  frown  on  the  face  of 
beauty,  he  did  wish,  and  it  was  his  business,  to 
gobble  as  many  of  the  chivalry  as  possible. 
When  this  party  got  in  sight  of  Leesburg,  they 
could  see  the  house  brilliantly  illuminated,  and 
they  hurried  forward,  but  were  too  late,  as 
the  crowd  was  already  dispersing  and  making 
a  noisy  demonstration  in  the  street  as  if  the 
apple-jack  had  flowed  too  freely;  and  as  our 
men  approached,  they  were  fired  into  and  two 
men  killed  and  three  wounded.  Our  men 
returned  the  fire,  but  to  no  effect,  as  the  Con 
federates  immediately  scattered.  The  dead 
and  wounded  were  left  in  the  house  where  the 
marriage  had  been  celebrated,  and  the  rest 


32     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

returned  to  our  night  encampment  at  two 
o'clock  with  the  sad  news.  At  the  earliest 
dawn  we  saddled  up,  and,  taking  an  ambu 
lance,  crossed  the  ford  and  went  once  more  to 
the  city.  I  went  with  the  surgeon  to  the  house 
where  the  wounded  men  were  lying,  and  helped 
bind  up  their  wounds  and  put  them  into  the 
ambulance.  The  landlord  of  the  house  was  a 
gentleman  with  Southern  hospitality  and  po 
liteness,  and  kept  a  fine  hotel  adorned  with 
elegant  paintings.  He  had  given  every  pos 
sible  attention  to  the  wounded,  and  proclaimed 
himself  a  Union  man,  and  told  us  that  if  our 
party  had  been  a  half-hour  earlier  the  previous 
night  they  might  have  bagged  a  good  number 
of  Pickett's  and  Mosby's  men.  I  never  heard 
again  from  this  wedding  till  twenty-six  years 
later,  when  on  a  visit  to  Fortress  Monroe,  I 
was  introduced  to  a  beautiful  Southern  girl 
who  was  visiting  her  brother,  a  lieutenant  on 
duty  at  the  Fort,  and  learned  from  them  that 
they  were  from  Leesburg  and  that  their  father 
had  been  a  Confederate  soldier,  and,  from  the 
date  and  other  circumstances  of  his  marriage, 
I  could  have  no  doubt  that  it  was  his  wedding 
that  our  forces  came  so  near  disturbing.  It 
was  a  happy  sign  of  a  restored  national  Union 
that  the  children  of  that  marriage  were  as 
warmly  patriotic  as  any  of  us,  and  one  of  them 


IN  THE  CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  33 

was  an  officer  enlisted  in  its  defence.  A 
quarter  of  a  century  had  brought  round  this 
marvellous  change. 

After  our  sad  experience  in  Leesburg  there 
was  nothing  for  us  to  do  but  to  turn  homeward, 
which  we  did  at  ten  o'clock,  stopping,  as  soon 
as  we  crossed  Goose  Creek  and  were  safe  from 
attack,  to  feed  our  horses  and  dine.  After 
dinner  a  ride  of  twenty  miles  brought  us  to  our 
camp  at  Vienna,  where  we  were  welcomed  with 
patriotic  music  by  the  band,  and  were  glad 
enough  to  get  a  good  supper  and  rest.  We 
had  been  out  three  days  and  two  nights,  and 
I  had  slept  only  two  hours,  and  was  so  stiff 
from  a  cold  caught  the  first  night  that  it  seemed 
as  if  I  could  count  by  its  special  ache  each  muscle 
in  my  body.  But  I  had  enjoyed  very  much 
the  opportunities  for  seeing  the  country,  and  of 
talking  with  officers  and  men  as  we  rode  along. 
This  was  pastoral  visiting  under  difficulties, 
but  it  was  not  to  be  neglected.  Especially  did 
I  enjoy  discussions  with  Colonel  Lowell  on 
metaphysics  and  mental  philosophy — subjects 
in  which  he  delighted  and  which  now  were  the 
more  fascinating  as  they  were  the  farthest  re 
moved  from  the  work  which  most  employed  our 
thoughts. 

The  experiences  to  which  I  have  as  yet  alluded 
were  connected  with  operations  and  movements 


34    FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND  PRISON 

that  very  slightly  affected  the  main  currents 
of  the  war,  but  which  are  worthy  of  note  as 
giving  interior  views  of  the  soldier's  life  in  camp 
and  hospital,  and  a  glance  at  the  difficulties 
and  dangers  of  guerrilla  warfare. 

We  will  now  pass  in  hasty  review  some  of  the 
grander  and  more  decisive  operations  of  armies, 
and  follow  the  varying  fortunes  of  the  Union 
cause  in  Virginia  through  the  closing  year  of 
the  war  from  the  Wilderness  to  Appomattox. 

The  spring  of  1864  opened  upon  the  armies 
of  the  Union  and  the  Confederacy  grimly 
watching  each  other  from  opposite  sides  of  the 
Rapidan.  Lee  held  the  south  bank  of  the  river, 
his  headquarters  at  Clark's  Mountain,  and  his 
forces  distributed  along  the  railroad  to  Orange 
Court  House  and  Gordonsville.  Meade  held 
the  north  bank,  with  his  headquarters  at  Cul- 
peper,  and  his  forces  distributed  along  the 
Orange  and  Alexandria  railroad  from  the  Rap 
idan  back  to  the  Rappahannock.  There  these 
two  armies  stretched  their  sinewy  lengths  like 
mighty  wrestlers  after  many  a  fearful  grapple 
lying  prone  upon  the  ground  yet  watching  for 
the  moment  when  they  must  join  in  a  last 
decisive  struggle,  each  aware  of  the  other's 
strength,  and  both  eager  to  improve  every  of 
fered  advantage.  Up  to  this  time  fickle  Suc 
cess  had  alike  encouraged  and  then  discouraged 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  35 

the  two  champions  as  she  led  now  one  and  now 
the  other  to  delusive  victories;  and  while  the 
Union  forces  could  boast  a  Malvern,  an  Antie- 
tam,  and  a  Gettysburg,  the  Confederates  took 
heart  from  the  fields  of  Manassas,  the  heights  of 
Fredericksburg,  and  the  wilds  of  Chancellors- 
ville.  Still,  though  each  army  could  thus  boast 
its  equal  triumphs,  the  resources  that  were 
available  for  future  successes  were  very  un 
equally  divided.  The  early  enthusiasm  of  both 
sides  had  cooled,  but  it  left  to  the  North  the 
energy  of  patience  fed  from  a  perennial  foun 
tain  of  moral  renovation  in  the  justice  of  their 
cause,  while  to  the  South  was  left  only  the  en 
ergy  of  despair  fed  by  the  fictitious  fear  of  losing 
everything  they  held  dear,  with  the  downfall 
of  the  Confederate  Government.  The  latter 
energy  is  fitful,  though  it  can,  and  did,  inspire 
to  the  most  intense  devotion;  the  former  is 
steady,  but  faithful  to  the  end.  No  one  could 
have  more  completely  embodied  the  desperate 
determination  of  the  South  than  General  Lee, 
who  now  with  unflinching  resolution  faced  the 
fearful  odds  that  must  of  necessity  bring  dis 
aster  and  defeat  to  the  cause  he  championed. 
And  no  one  could  have  more  completely  em 
bodied  the  Northern  energy  of  patience  than 
General  Grant,  who  had  just  been  raised  to  the 
supreme  command  of  all  the  armies  of  the  United 


36    FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

States  in  order  to  bring  them  into  mutual  co 
operation,  and  who  now  gave  his  personal  super 
vision  only  to  the  Army  of  the  Potomac.  For 
to  this  was  assigned  the  most  momentous 
task  of  the  campaign — to  dislodge  and  if  pos 
sible  defeat  the  foremost  army  of  the  Confed 
eracy  under  its  foremost  military  chief,  who  still, 
after  three  years  of  terrible  combat,  covered 
Richmond,  and  thus  held  the  prize  for  which 
the  Army  of  the  Potomac  had  so  heroically 
fought.  For  three  years,  manoeuvres  and 
pitched  battles,  each  one  of  which  was  con 
fidently  expected  to  end  the  Confederacy  at 
once,  had  left  the  Army  of  Northern  Virginia 
as  dangerous  as  at  first.  And  now  the  Army 
of  the  Potomac  was  to  advance  again  over 
fields  which  had  been  the  scene  of  Hooker's 
disastrous  failure  at  Chancellorsville,  and  Burn- 
side's  bloody  repulse  at  Fredericksburg,  and 
by  a  route  made  difficult  by  a  heavily  timbered 
country,  broken  by  many  streams  running 
at  right  angles  with  the  line  of  march,  and  easily 
held  against  a  superior  force.  The  North  had 
now  come  to  feel  that  war  was  no  pastime  but 
a  terrible  reality,  and  was  ready  for  the  new 
method  of  procedure  which  was  proposed  by 
General  Grant,  namely,  "to  hammer  contin 
uously  against  the  armed  force  of  the  Confed 
eracy  until  by  mere  attrition,  if  by  nothing  else, 


IN  THE  CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  37 

there  should  be  nothing  left  capable  of  rebellion. 
No  more  ninety  days'  prophecies!  No  more 
nine  months'  enlistments!  No  more  standing 
behind  intrenchments  and  making  tactical 
thrusts  like  a  fencer  behind  his  foils!  No  more 
sitting  down  at  safe  distances  and  watching  the 
blaze  and  thunder  of  an  artillery  duel,  and  call 
ing  that  fighting!  War  was  seen  to  be  what  it 
really  is — the  most  terrible  of  woes;  and  so, 
when  on  the  third  of  May  the  command  was 
given —  "Forward,"  it  meant  no  longer  a  holi 
day  parade,  but  a  fierce  death-grapple,  the  air 
filled  with  groans  and  the  earth  choked  with 
blood.  The  desolate  region  into  which  was 
now  poured  the  living  tide  of  one  hundred 
thousand  men  is  fittingly  called  "The  Wilder 
ness."  It  embraces  a  tract  of  country  stretch 
ing  southward  many  miles  from  the  Rapidan, 
and  westward  beyond  Mine  Run,  covered  with 
forest  and  an  almost  impenetrable  undergrowth 
of  low-limbed  scraggy  pines,  scrub  oaks,  and 
stiff-bristling  chinquapins,  or  dwarf  chestnuts. 
It  is  a  tangled  labyrinth  of  brambles  and  briers, 
a  land  of  darkness  and  the  very  shadow  of 
death.  Into  its  horrid  gloom  when  once  the 
army  entered,  it  was  wholly  lost  to  view. 
Within  its  trackless  waste  was  enacted — all 
unseen  but  not  unheard — the  terrible  drama  of 
battle.  There  is  a  glory  and  a  grandeur,  a 


38    FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

pride  and  a  pomp  in  the  marshalled  ranks  upon 
an  open  field;  but  you  shudder  to  hear  the  des 
perate  raging  of  musketry  in  the  thick  jungle 
where  nothing  is  seen,  only  from  out  those 
gloomy  depths  soon  comes  a  part  of  the  ruin 
that  has  been  wrought,  in  bleeding  shapes 
borne  in  blankets  or  on  stretchers,  while  a  large 
part  never  returns — the  silent,  motionless  shapes 
that  lie  in  thick  swathes  along  the  front  of 
battle,  the  ghastly  harvest  of  death. 

The  advance  into  this  horrible  wilderness  was 
led  by  General  Sheridan,  who  had  just  been 
put  in  command  of  the  Cavalry  Corps  of  the 
Army  of  the  Potomac;  having  been  trans 
ferred  from  the  Army  of  the  Cumberland,  where 
he  had  been  leading  an  infantry  division.  But 
although  he  was  an  infantry  officer,  most  of 
his  earlier  experience  had  been  with  the  cavalry 
arm  of  the  service,  and  everywhere  he  had  shown 
those  fighting  qualities  that  Grant  wanted  now 
in  this  last  great  encounter.  The  first  thing  he 
did  on  assuming  this  new  command  was  to 
persuade  General  Meade  to  relieve  the  cavalry 
from  their  excessive  and  unnecessary  picket 
duty,  guarding,  as  they  had,  a  sixty-mile  circle 
about  the  infantry  and  artillery — and  scarcely 
one  mounted  Confederate  confronting  it  at  any 
point.  The  horses  were  worn  and  thin,  and 
Sheridan  did  the  best  he  could,  in  the  two  weeks 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  39 

before  the  campaign  opened,  to  nurse  them  into 
a  better  condition.  The  next  thing  Sheridan 
did  was  to  try  to  persuade  Meade  to  make  the 
cavalry  more  effective.  General  Meade 
thought  cavalry  fit  for  little  more  than  guard 
and  picket  duty,  but  General  Sheridan  wanted 
to  mass  it  and  defeat  the  enemy's  cavalry,  and 
so  give  his  men  such  confidence  that  they  could 
march  where  they  pleased  for  the  purpose  of 
breaking  Lee's  communications  and  destroying 
the  resources  from  which  his  army  was  supplied. 
General  Meade  was  not  quite  persuaded  to  let 
Sheridan  have  his  way,  at  least  not  till  after 
the  battles  of  the  Wilderness,  when  Grant  in 
tervened  and  gave  the  gallant  cavalry  leader 
free  rein.  But  now  Meade  used  the  troopers 
in  the  old-fashioned  way  of  protecting  the  ad 
vance  of  the  infantry,  while  Sheridan  felt  that 
the  infantry  ought  to  be  able  to  protect  its  own 
front. 

The  plan  of  operations  was  to  cross  the  Rapi- 
dan  and  under  cover  of  the  dense  woods  to 
march  by  the  left  flank  and  if  possible  turn 
Lee's  right  and  strike  at  his  communications 
with  Gordonsville.  To  this  end,  early  on  the 
the  morning  of  the  4th  of  May  General  Sheridan 
crossed  the  river  with  about  ten  thousand 
troopers — Wilson's  division  crossing  at  Ger- 
mania  Ford  and  opening  the  way  for  Warren 


40    FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND  PRISON 

with  the  Fifth  Corps,  which  reached  Wilderness 
Tavern  at  noon  and  intrenched.  Sedgwick 
with  the  Sixth  Corps  followed  Warren  and  by 
nightfall  had  taken  position  on  his  right.  Gregg 
with  the  second  division  of  cavalry  crossed  the 
river,  before  daylight,  at  Ely's  Ford,  opening 
the  way  towards  Chancellorsville  for  Hancock 
with  the  Second  Corps,  which  encamped  about 
six  miles  east  of  Warren.  Behind  the  Second 
Corps,  trailed  along  its  almost  interminable 
length  the  train  of  more  than  four  thousand 
wagons  covered  and  protected  by  Torbert's 
division  of  cavalry.  This  wagon-train  in  single 
line  would  stretch  more  than  a  hundred  miles 
and  yet  it  was  all  south  of  the  river  by  the 
evening  of  the  5th.  It  carried  ten  days'  ra 
tions  for  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  men 
and  three  days'  forage  for  I  know  not  how  many 
animals,  and  under  the  direction  of  Gen.  Rufus 
Ingalls  was  very  skilfully  managed.  Now  all 
the  army  was  across  the  river  on  the  evening 
of  the  4th  except  Burnside's  corps,  which  had 
been  ordered  to  remain  about  Rappahannock 
station  to  guard  Grant's  communications  with 
Alexandria  until  he  got  word  that  the  crossing 
had  been  safely  accomplished.  This  he  learned 
towards  evening  of  the  4th,  and  by  making  a 
night  march,  although  some  of  his  troops  had 
to  walk  forty  miles  to  reach  the  river,  he  was 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  41 

crossing  with  the  head  of  his  column  early  on 
the  morning  of  the  5th.  Grant  considered  this 
movement  across  the  river  by  his  whole  army 
in  the  face  of  the  enemy's  large,  well-appointed 
and  ably-commanded  forces  as  a  great  success, 
and  felt  encouraged  to  think  that  he  might  turn 
Lee's  right  and  force  him  to  fight  for  his  com 
munications  with  Richmond.  But  Lee  needed 
no  forcing.  That  very  morning,  while  Grant 
was  crossing,  he  from  his  headquarters  at  Orange 
Court  House  had  set  his  columns  in  motion  by 
the  Orange  Turnpike  and  Plank  Road,  and  by 
evening  the  advance  of  the  two  armies  biv 
ouacked  unsuspectingly  within  a  short  distance 
of  each  other,  and  on  the  morning  of  the  5th, 
as  Warren,  in  order  to  guard  his  right  flank, 
sent  out  the  division  of  Griffin  on  the  turnpike 
and  the  division  of  Crawford  on  the  Plank 
Road,  the  one  encountered  the  advance  of 
Ewell  and  the  other  the  advance  of  Hill.  But 
Generals  Grant  and  Meade — who  had  now  es 
tablished  their  headquarters  in  the  only  open 
space  the  region  afforded,  near  "Old  Wilderness 
Tavern" — thought  that  this  demonstration  on 
the  part  of  Lee  was  only  a  cover  for  a  change  of 
position  towards  the  North  Anna,  and  so, 
without  changing  the  line  of  march  of  the  main 
army,  ordered  an  attack  at  once  with  such 
troops  as  happened  to  be  near  the  threatened 


42    FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

positions.  In  obedience  to  these  orders,  an 
impetuous  charge  was  made  by  Warren  at 
noon,  and  for  a  short  time  everything  was 
swept  before  it.  But  soon,  coming  upon  the 
main  columns  of  the  Confederate  army,  the 
advance  was  checked,  and  shortly  driven  back 
with  great  loss.  Then  General  Grant,  no  longer 
in  doubt  that  the  enemy  were  present  in  full 
force,  made  his  dispositions  to  accept  the  gage 
of  battle,  and  immediately  ordered  Hancock, 
who  was  now  with  the  advance  of  the  Second 
Corps  two  miles  beyond  Todd's  Tavern,  to 
countermarch  and  as  soon  as  possible  support 
Getty,  whose  division  of  Sedgwick's  corps 
was  with  difficulty  holding  its  position  on  War 
ren's  left.  At  a  little  past  four  o'clock  the  at 
tack  was  opened  by  Hancock  in  repeated  and 
desperate  assaults  upon  Hill  along  the  Plank 
Road,  but  the  Confederates,  under  cover  of  the 
almost  impenetrable  thickets,  met  the  ad 
vancing  lines  with  such  well-delivered  and  mur 
derous  volleys  that  our  advance  was  every  time 
checked  and  hurled  back.  The  day  was  in 
tensely  hot,  and  in  the  close  stiffling  ravines 
death  held  high  carnival.  Every  advance  was 
into  an  ambuscade,  where  our  soldiers  were 
mowed  down  by  bullets  from  unseen  lines  of 
musketry.  Yet  Grant  flinched  not  from  his 
purpose,  and  showed  his  impregnable  determi- 


IN  THE  CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  43 

nation  by  giving  orders  that  the  bridge  over 
which  Burnside's  corps  had  just  crossed  should 
be  taken  up.  He  thus  cut  off  one  opportunity 
of  escape  for  stragglers,  and  said,  "One  bridge 
and  the  ford  will  be  enough  for  all  the  men  we 
have  left  if  we  have  to  fall  back."  I  have 
told  how  the  cavalry  took  the  advance  on  the 
morning  of  the  4th,  Gregg's  division  at  Ely's 
Ford,  and  Wilson's,  six  miles  above  at  Germania 
Ford.  Before  daylight  they  had  driven  the 
rebel  pickets  away,  and  had  laid  the  pontoons 
for  the  crossing  of  the  infantry  and  artillery. 
Gregg  had  pushed  on  to  Chancellorsville,  where 
Sheridan  fixed  his  headquarters.  Wilson  moved 
rapidly  past  Wilderness  Tavern  as  far  as  Par 
ker's  Store  on  the  Orange  Plank  Road.  Here  he 
received  orders  from  Meade  to  leave  one  regi 
ment  to  hold  the  position  at  the  store  and  ad 
vance  the  rest  of  his  force  towards  Craig's 
Meeting  House.  Here  he  encountered  Rosser's 
brigade  of  cavalry  and  drove  it  flying  for  two 
miles.  Then,  hearing  nothing  of  our  infantry 
following  to  his  support,  and  learning  that  the 
rebel  infantry  was  pressing  past  Parker's  Store 
and  so  getting  in  his  rear  and  between  him  and 
General  Meade,  Wilson  determined  to  withdraw 
his  cavalry  to  Todd's  Tavern.  But  here  again 
he  encountered  the  Confederates  and  seemed  to 
be  caught  in  an  ambuscade.  He  extricated 


44     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

himself,  however,  by  making  a  detour  and  cross 
ing  the  Po  at  Corbin's  Bridge  and  then  taking 
the  direction  of  Todd's  Tavern,  where  as  he 
approached  he  was  met  by  Gregg's  division  of 
cavalry,  which  had  been  sent  to  his  relief  by 
Sheridan,  who,  with  that  instinct  which  made 
him  a  great  commander,  suspected  the  direction 
that  Wilson  would  take  and  so  provided,  at  the 
right  place  and  time,  the  necessary  relief.  To 
gether  they  were  able  not  only  to  check  the 
Confederate  pursuit  but  to  drive  back  the  rebel 
forces  as  far  as  Shady  Grove  Church.  The 
First  Massachusetts  Cavalry  did  gallant  work 
in  this  last  charge. 

Night  now  closed  in  and  ended  the  struggle, 
which  had  been  very  severe  without  any  marked 
advantage  to  either  side  except  that  Grant  had 
crossed  a  formidable  river  in  face  of  the  enemy 
and  had  his  whole  army  ready  in  one  body  for 
the  action  of  the  next  day.  This  was  indeed 
equivalent  to  a  victory,  but  the  losses  had  been 
great.  In  those  few  hours  since  twelve  o'clock, 
five  thousand  on  the  Union  side  and  at  least 
three  thousand  on  the  Confederate  side  had 
either  been  killed,  wounded,  or  taken  prisoners. 
Yet  these  terrible  losses  did  not  make  either 
side  less  determined  to  continue  the  fight,  and 
early  on  the  morning  of  the  6th,  fifteen  minutes 
before  the  time  appointed  by  Grant  for  the 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  45 

general  attack,  a  sudden  outburst  of  musketry 
on  his  right  flank  announced  that  Lee  was  before 
him  in  offensive  purposes.  This  would  not 
have  happened  if  Grant  had  not  compromised 
with  Meade's  urgent  desire  to  have  the  attack 
ordered  at  six  and  so  deferred  it  a  half-hour 
from  the  time  he  had  first  determined,  which 
would  have  given  him  the  advantage  of  Lee 
by  fifteen  minutes.  This  early  attack  by 
Ewell's  corps  on  our  right  was  planned  by  Lee 
chiefly  as  a  cover  for  an  intended  heavier  blow 
upon  the  Union  left.  But  its  meaning  was  sus 
pected  by  Grant  and  was  easily  repulsed.  Sedg- 
wick  with  the  Sixth  Corps  now  held  the  right 
of  our  line  of  battle,  and  through  the  day  made 
many  gallant  assaults  upon  the  intrenched 
positions  of  the  enemy,  who,  though  he  could 
not  be  dislodged,  was  thus  prevented  from  with 
drawing  troops  to  the  support  of  Hill  on  the 
Rebel  right.  On  Sedgwick's  left,  two  divisions 
of  Warren's  corps,  which  had  suffered  so  terribly 
the  day  before,  though  engaged  throughout  the 
day  in  severe  skirmishing,  yet  held  chiefly  a 
defensive  attitude  on  the  right  and  the  left  of 
the  Orange  Pike.  On  Warren's  left,  Burnside, 
who  had  by  rapid  and  arduous  marches  brought 
up  the  Ninth  Corps,  occupied  the  space  between 
the  turnpike  and  the  Plank  Road,  and,  advanc 
ing  through  the  forest  in  the  morning,  encoun- 


46    FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

tered  the  enemy  on  a  wooded  crest  near  the 
Plank  Road,  but,  not  deeming  it  wise  to  attempt 
to  take  the  hill  by  assault,  led  his  command 
farther  to  the  left  and  became  engaged  with  the 
enemy  about  noon,  but  with  no  decisive  re 
sults.  The  brunt  of  the  day's  fighting  was 
borne  by  Hancock,  who  had  nearly  half  of  the 
Army  of  the  Potomac  under  him,  being  rein 
forced  by  General  Wadsworth's  division  of  the 
Fifth  Corps,  and  General  Stephenson's  of  the 
Ninth  Corps.  Hancock  in  person  led  the  at 
tack  on  the  left  of  the  Plank  Road,  and  Wads- 
worth  on  the  right,  and  the  advance  was  made 
with  such  vigor  that  the  Confederates  under 
Hill  were  driven  back  in  panic  and  utter  con 
fusion  for  a  mile  and  a  half;  but  here  Long- 
street,  who  had  been  making  forced  marches 
from  Gordonsville,  threw  his  veteran  corps  into 
the  scale,  and  by  desperate  fighting  regained 
all  the  ground  which  had  been  lost,  and  was 
making  his  dispositions  to  turn  Hancock's  left 
and  thus  strike  a  decisive  blow,  when  a  Con 
federate  bullet — as  had  happened  to  Stonewall 
Jackson  just  a  year  before  and  near  this  place- 
disabled  him  and  stayed  the  onset.  This  acci 
dent  caused  a  delay  of  four  hours,  in  which  Gen 
eral  Lee  was  making  his  dispositions  and  getting 
his  troops  in  hand  to  carry  out  Longstreet's 
plan.  On  the  left  of  Hancock,  General  Sheri- 


IN  THE  CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  47 

dan  held  the  line  of  the  Brock  Road  beyond  the 
Catharpin  Furnaces  and  thence  around  to 
Todd's  Tavern  and  Piney  Branch  Church. 
General  Stuart  commanding  the  Rebel  cavalry, 
with  Wade  Hampton  and  Fitzhugh  Lee  as  his 
division  commanders,  tried  to  dislodge  Sheridan 
from  his  position,  but  Custer's  and  Devin's  bri 
gades  hurled  back  his  attacks.  This  was  in  the 
morning;  and  now  at  four  o'clock  when  Lee 
took  personal  command  of  the  Rebel  right,  he 
ordered  Stuart  to  attack  once  more  while  he 
himself  threw  Longstreet's  and  Hill's  combined 
forces  against  Hancock's  intrenched  position. 
Stuart  had  no  better  success  than  in  the  morn 
ing.  His  assault  was  met  gallantly,  and  se 
verely  repulsed  by  Generals  Merritt  and  Gregg, 
leading  the  First  and  Second  Divisions.  Gen 
eral  Torbert  of  the  First  had  been  taken  ill  and 
carried  to  the  rear.  In  this  cavalry  fight  Custer 
went  in  with  his  usual  impetuosity,  having  his 
band  playing  patriotic  airs  near  the  front  and 
himself  charging  at  the  head  of  his  brigade 
while  his  artillery  played  hotly  into  the  enemy. 
Lee's  assaults  upon  Hancock  were  also  unavail 
ing,  though  for  a  little  time  the  flags  of  Ander 
son's  corps  were  planted  on  our  intrenchments. 
"But  Carroll  of  Gibbon's  division  moved  at  a 
double-quick  with  his  brigade  and  drove  back 
the  enemy,  inflicting  great  loss."  Night  again 


48     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

closed  in  on  the  terrible  carnage,  with  the  op 
posing  lines  in  almost  exactly  the  same  position 
as  in  the  morning.  This  day's  battle  added 
more  than  fifteen  thousand  to  the  frightful 
holocaust  of  the  day  before — the  Union  losses 
amounting  to  ten  thousand  and  the  Confederate 
exceeding  five  thousand.  Grant  thought  that 
the  Confederate  losses  must  have  been  greater 
than  his  own.  Possibly  they  were,  in  propor 
tion  to  the  whole  force  which  Lee  was  able  to 
bring  into  the  field.  But  the  admitted  losses 
of  both  sides  approached  twenty-four  thousand, 
and  the  two  days  together  made  the  most  de 
structive  and  the  most  hotly  contested  fields 
in  the  history  of  civilized  nations  up  to  that 
time. 

The  next  morning  both  armies  were  too  ex 
hausted  to  renew  the  attack,  though  General 
Sheridan  drove  Stuart's  cavalry  from  Catharpin 
Furnace  almost  to  Spottsylvania  Court  House 
after  very  hard  fighting,  and  so  made  it  im 
possible  for  Lee  to  turn  Grant's  left  or  to 
threaten  his  communications.  With  the  rest 
of  the  army  the  day  was  spent  in  caring  for  the 
wounded  and  burying  the  dead  who  lay  within 
our  lines.  Grant  had  the  one  bridge  trans 
ferred  from  Germania  to  Ely's  Ford  to  facili 
tate  the  transportation  of  the  wounded  to 
Washington.  But  the  debatable  ground  be- 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  49 

tween  the  two  lines  of  battle  was  still  covered 
with  its  horrible  harvest  of  death,  the  bodies 
lying  in  swathes  where  the  dread  reaper's 
sickle  had  ruthlessly  swept  the  field.  The 
ground  fought  over  was  more  than  five  miles 
long  and  averaged  three-quarters  of  a  mile  in 
width,  and  on  the  second  day  the  fighting  had 
continued  with  short  intervals  from  five  in  the 
morning  till  dark.  The  killed  and  many  of 
the  severely  wounded  lay  within  this  belt  where 
it  was  impossible  to  reach  them,  piled  up  in 
ghastly  heaps,  gold-laced  generals  and  ragged 
privates  rolled  in  one  indistinguishable  medley 
of  death.  And  as  if  this  was  not  dreadful 
enough  to  appease  the  grim  Moloch  of  War  the 
fire-fiend  added  his  hot  fury,  the  woods  were  set 
on  fire  by  the  bursting  shells,  and  "the  wounded 
who  had  not  strength  to  move  themselves 
were  either  suffocated  or  burned  to  death."  A 
month  after  the  battle,  I  rode  along  this  gloomy 
avenue  between  the  intrenched  positions,  and 
there  they  still  lay — some  partially  cremated, 
all  unburied,  "pleading  in  vain  for  a  handful 
of  earth,"  each  in  some  position  that  told  the 
tale  of  lengthened  pain  or  momentary  agony. 
Most  had  been  stripped  of  caps  and  shoes  and 
outer  garments  to  cover  the  tattered  and  shoe 
less  Rebel  soldiers  and  camp-followers.  You 
could  hardly  distinguish  in  some  cases  between 


50    FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

the  Union  and  the  Confederate  dead,  unless  you 
stooped  to  examine  some  token  or  written 
direction  upon  the  person,  telling  of  loved  ones 
left  behind,  who  should  never  get  the  tidings  of 
how  or  where  they  fell.  In  some  places  the 
battle  had  raged  so  fiercely  that  trees  a  foot  in 
diameter  were  mowed  down  with  bullets. 
We  could  mark  the  fluctuating  fortunes  of  the 
battle  by  the  numbers  and  position  of  the  dead. 
At  one  place  there  was  evidently  a  terrible 
struggle  before  some  strong  Rebel  earthworks 
where  our  dead  lay  in  a  long  line;  but  we  could 
see  that  the  assault  was  at  one  time  successful, 
for  on  the  inside  of  the  intrenchments  was  an 
other  line  of  Confederate  dead  mingled  with 
our  own,  and  further  on  the  Rebels  lay  scattered 
where  they  fell  before  our  advance.  In  one 
ravine  it  was  plain  to  see  by  the  bright  uni 
forms — which  the  Rebels,  not  wishing  to  wear, 
had  not  stolen — that  a  whole  regiment  of 
Zouaves  had  been  entrapped  in  an  ambuscade 
of  flame,  and  few  could  have  escaped  to  tell 
the  tale.  Now  with  their  tasselled  caps  and 
embroidered  jackets  and  baggy  breeches,  so 
picturesque  in  life,  so  uncanny  in  death,  they 
told  the  tale  of  the  ghastly  horrors  of  war.  This 
was  the  I46th  New  York — the  Irish  Infantry 
(old  Duryea's  Zouaves,  re-enlisted).  They  had 
charged  here  five  times  through  the  ravine  and 


IN  THE  CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  51 

over  the  Rebel  earthworks,  singing,  as  they  ran 
on  the  double-quick,  the  inspiriting  song 
"Rally  Round  the  Flag,  Boys!"  Alas,  that 
its  echoes  should  have  been  the  groans  of  the 
dying  sinking  away  into  the  silence  of  the  dead! 
But  how  glorious  was  this  exhibition  of  the 
uniting  of  all  nationalities  in  the  North  for  the 
defence  of  freedom  and  union!  The  hot  fur 
naces  of  war — seven  times  heated  by  civil 
strife — fused  the  diverse  elements  of  our  popu 
lation  into  one  homogeneous  mass  of  patriotic 
devotion.  On  many  a  battlefield  foreigners 
fought  shoulder  to  shoulder  with  those  who  were 
native  born,  pressed  on  with  patient  persistence 
in  a  common  partnership  of  peril,  bowed  to  a 
common  baptism  of  blood,  and  entered  together 
the  shadow  of  death. 

We  had  entered  that  region  of  gloom  to  carry 
away  any  of  our  own  wounded  whom  it  might 
be  possible  to  move.  Word  had  reached  Wash 
ington  through  some  of  our  men,  who  had  so  far 
recovered  as  to  be  able  to  walk  to  our  lines,  that 
there  were  three  hundred  of  our  wounded  men 
in  a  field  hospital  at  Locust  Grove  in  the  Wilder 
ness,  and  Colonel  Lowell  was  ordered  to  take 
seven  hundred  men  and  fifty  four-horse  am 
bulances,  and  try  to  bring  them  away.  We 
started  from  Vienna,  June  8th,  and  crossed  the 
Occoquan  at  Wolf  Run  Shoals,  and  the  Rappa- 


52    FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

hannock  at  United  States  Ford,  wading  both 
streams,  passed  through  Chancellorsville,  and 
took  the  Orange  Plank  Road  to  Parker's  Store, 
where  we  found  one  small  field  hospital  with 
thirteen  of  our  men  besides  a  number  of  Con 
federates.  On  examination,  our  surgeon  de 
cided  that  none  of  them  could  endure  the  jour 
ney  to  Washington.  As  I  went  from  one  pa 
tient  to  another,  trying  to  comfort  them,  I  came 
upon  one  of  the  Fifty-seventh  Massachusetts 
Infantry,  and,  instead  of  speaking  of  himself  and 
his  own  terrible  doom,  his  first  word  was  of 
affectionate  solicitude  for  his  Colonel — W.  F. 
Bartlett  of  Pittsfield — and  did  I  know  whether 
he  was  badly  wounded  or  not.  When  I  told 
him  that  I  had  seen  his  gallant  commander 
only  a  few  days  before,  and  that  though  severely 
wounded  he  was  doing  well,  this  poor  dying 
soldier  seemed  perfectly  happy  and  his  eyes 
sparkled  with  delight.  What  a  beautiful  and 
pathetic  tribute  to  General  Bartlett!  How  we 
all  delighted  to  honor  him  as  one  of  the  noblest 
of  the  young  heroes  of  the  war!  He  was  just 
past  twenty-one  when  he  entered  the  army  as 
Captain  of  the  Twentieth  Massachusetts  In 
fantry,  and  he  was  only  twenty-six  when  he  was 
mustered  out  as  Brevet  Major  General.  He 
lost  a  leg  in  front  of  Yorktown,  was  wounded 
in  the  wrist  and  heel  in  the  assault  upon  Port 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  53 

Hudson,  was  wounded  in  the  head  at  the  Battle 
of  the  Wilderness,  and  taken  prisoner  in  the 
mine  before  Petersburg.  On  a  bronze  tablet 
under  his  bust  in  Memorial  Hall  in  Cambridge 
is  this  motto  in  old  English:  "He  was  a  very 
parfit  gentil  knight."  He  was  indeed  our  mod 
ern  "Bayard  without  fear  and  without  re 
proach,"  and  he  showed  a  spirit  of  self-sacrifice 
finer  than  Sidney's.  His  was  not  a  merely 
physical  courage  or  the  recklessness  of  a  hot 
temperament.  No  one  could  have  been  more 
cool  and  calm  than  he,  and  no  one  so  fond  of 
peace.  But  he  nerved  himself  to  battle,  by 
prayer,  and  by  inward  wrestlings  whose  out 
come  and  end  was  always  religious  trust. 
After  battle  I  have  heard  him  laugh  and  joke 
about  the  wounds  in  his  wooden  leg;  but  to 
him,  who  never  but  once  went  into  action  with 
out  a  bullet-scratch,  fighting  meant  always  close 
quarters  with  death,  and  he  never  blanched  in 
that  presence.  After  the  war  was  over,  and  he 
had  gone  back  quietly  to  the  pursuits  of  peace, 
the  same  manly  courage,  moral  force,  and  chiv 
alrous  daring  made  him  stand  up  boldly  against 
the  vindictive  passions  of  conquerors,  and  stand 
out  conspicuously  as  the  champion  of  the  pity 
ing  sympathy  of  brothers.  Without  the  art  of 
the  orator,  his  utter  earnestness  amounted  to 
eloquence;  and  in  the  few  years  of  peace  spared 


54    FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

to  him  he  achieved  even  finer  victories  than  in 
the  war.  His  short  speech  at  the  Centennial 
of  the  Battle  of  Lexington,  in  which  he  sought 
"to  heal  the  wounds  his  own  valor  had  made," 
was  perhaps  the  noblest  fruit  of  that  patriotic 
celebration.  And  yet  we  think  of  him  chiefly 
as  a  soldier,  our  honored  companion  who  loved 
his  country  and  scorned  death  in  her  service. 
No  wonder  his  men  admired  him,  for  he  never 
asked  them  to  go  where  he  would  not  lead  the 
way.  I  was  delighted  to  be  able  to  assure  this 
one  of  Bartlett's  brave  followers,  now  wounded 
beyond  cure  and  still  lying  on  the  field  of  the 
Wilderness,  that  his  loved  commander  was 
doing  well  (Note  8).  I  took  the  names  of  all  these 
patients,  and  such  messages  as  they  wished  to 
send  to  their  homes,  and  with  unutterable  regret 
that  we  could  not  transport  them  to  Washing 
ton,  we  left  them  to  the  kindly  though  unskilled 
nursing  that  the  place  afforded. 

While  we  were  halting  thus  at  Parker's  Store, 
a  detachment  had  pushed  on  six  or  eight  miles 
further  to  Locust  Grove,  but  found  that  most  of 
the  wounded  had  been  removed  to  Orange  Court 
House  three  days  before.  At  this  we  were 
greatly  disappointed,  for  we  could  easily  have 
brought  off  two  hundred.  Still,  as  there  were 
some  left,  Colonel  Lowell  took  ten  ambulances — 
sending  the  rest  for  safety  back  over  the  ford — 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  55 

and  we  found  at  Locust  Grove  forty-six  of  our 
men  who,  we  thought,  could  safely  be  moved. 
Their  wounds  were  all  very  bad,  and  the  ride 
was  to  be  very  long — more  than  fifty  miles, — 
yet  they  were  all  ready  to  take  the  risk  and 
perfectly  delighted  at  the  prospect  of  getting 
among  friends.  There  were  two  who  were 
dying,  and  whom,  of  course,  we  would  not  move; 
yet  even  they  longed  to  go,  that  at  least  they 
might  close  their  eyes  for  the  last  time  among 
friends.  One  of  these,  before  he  had  been  told 
that  he  could  not  go,  although  he  was  already 
so  weak  that  he  could  not  turn  on  his  couch, 
asked  me  to  take  his  haversack  from  under  his 
pillow,  that  he  might  have  some  provision  for 
the  journey.  But  he  had  no  need  of  food  on 
the  journey  that  his  soul  would  speedily  take, 
nor  would  he  taste  again  the  bread  of  earth  till 
it  was  transformed  into  the  bread  of  the  im 
mortal  life.  We  hastily  loaded  the  rest  into 
the  ambulances,  all  except  three  for  whom  there 
was  no  room.  But  their  prayers  to  be  taken 
along  were  so  piteous  that  I  begged  Colonel 
Lowell  to  let  me  see  that  they  were  carried  on 
stretchers  to  the  ford  where  were  the  rest  of  the 
ambulances.  He  gave  me  a  detail  of  forty-eight 
men,  and  I  had  twenty-four  dismount  at  a  time, 
the  others  leading  the  riderless  horses,  and  I 
put  eight  at  each  stretcher,  four  to  carry  and 


56    FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

four  to  rest  alternately.  In  this  way  we  carried 
them  twelve  miles  between  five  and  eleven 
o'clock.  It  was  very  hard  work,  as  the  road 
was  exceedingly  rough.  I  took  hold  myself  a 
part  of  the  time;  and  though  I  was  very  much 
exhausted,  with  lack  of  food  and  sleep,  and  with 
the  peculiarly  trying  labors  of  the  day,  in  the 
excitement  of  the  occasion  I  felt  very  strong, 
and  often  carried  alone  one  end  of  a  stretcher 
with  its  precious  but  heavy  load  of  suffering 
loyalty.  To  add  to  the  difficulties  of  our  weary 
tramp,  towards  evening  it  began  to  rain,  and 
by  nine  o'clock  it  was  so  dark  we  could  not  see 
a  yard  before  us,  and  we  stumbled  over  every 
slightest  obstacle.  We  reached  the  ford  and 
the  rest  of  the  ambulances  a  little  after  eleven; 
but  it  was  not  safe  to  cross  in  the  darkness,  so 
we  lay  down  on  the  wet  ground  till  half-past 
three  o'clock,  when  we  fed  horses  and  started 
again.  This  crossing  of  the  Rappahannock  was 
the  hardest  place  in  the  whole  journey  for  the 
wounded.  All  were  now  provided  with  room 
enough  in  the  ambulances;  but  in  descending 
the  steep  bank  to  the  river,  one  ambulance  was 
upset,  throwing  out  three  wounded  men  and 
breaking  again  the  limbs  which  had  first  been 
broken  by  bullets.  Like  true  soldiers  these 
sufferers  looked  upon  the  bright  side  even  of  this 
calamity,  and  found  some  comfort  in  thinking 


IN  THE  CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  57 

that  their  limbs  had  been  poorly  set  and  would  in 
any  event  have  had  to  be  broken  again. 

Then  the  crossing  of  the  river  was  very  rough. 
It  seemed  at  times  as  if  the  large  round  stones 
in  the  bed  of  the  river  would  upset  the  wagons 
into  the  water.  In  one  of  the  ambulances  a 
horse  had  given  out,  and  we  had  supplied  his 
place  with  a  mule,  but  as  the  team  entered  the 
water  the  two  animals — from  incompatibility 
of  temper — refused  to  pull  together.  The  mule 
especially  sulked,  and  seemed  disposed  to  shift 
the  burden  upon  his  more  aristocratic  compan 
ion.  So,  procuring  a  long  pole  and  putting  a 
little  pointed  persuasion  into  the  end  of  it,  I 
managed  by  persistent  punching,  to  induce  the 
mule  to  draw  at  least  his  half,  and  at  last  we 
were  out  of  the  water.  But  in  climbing  the 
bank,  the  wheels  got  stuck  in  the  mud,  and  then 
the  horse  refused  to  pull — showing  how  catching 
is  depravity.  In  this  complication  I  had  ten 
men  dismount,  and  what  with  pulling  at  the 
tongue  and  pushing  at  the  back  and  tugging 
at  the  wheels  and  lashing  the  horse  and  punch 
ing  the  mule,  the  ambulance  was  finally  drawn 
up  the  bank.  But  the  sufferings  of  the  wounded 
during  these  wrenchings  and  joltings  of  the 
wagon  were  simply  indescribable. 

We  found  a  camping-ground  about  four  miles 
from  the  river  and  halted  for  breakfast.  We 


58     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

had  concentrated  beef-tea  for  the  sick,  and 
heated  three  large  iron  kettles  full  of  it,  and 
thickened  it  with  soft  bread.  The  patients  had 
had  nothing  to  eat  for  twenty-four  hours,  and 
it  was  a  great  refreshment  to  them. 

I  will  not  stop  to  give  in  detail  the  rest  of 
the  journey.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  only  one 
of  the  wounded  men  succumbed  to  the  dreadful 
fatigues.  The  rest  reached  Washington  in 
safety.  As  we  approached  our  camp  late  on 
the  second  night  of  our  journey,  I  galloped 
ahead  of  the  column,  and  waked  up  the  band, 
and  had  them  play  a  "welcome  home"  for  the 
command  as  it  came  in.  The  joy  of  the 
wounded  captives  whom  we  had  rescued  may 
be  imagined  but  cannot  be  described  when 
they  heard  once  more  the  inspiring  strains  of 
"The  Star  Spangled  Banner"  and  "Hail, 
Columbia."  For  were  they  not  also  heroes 
who  "fought  and  bled  in  freedom's  cause," 
and  did  they  not  deserve  the  trumpet's  "All 
Hail!"  and  do  they  not  still  deserve  a  nation's 
grateful  remembrance? 

Let  us  now  follow  again  the  movements  of 
Grant  and  Lee,  and  watch  them  as  they  tear 
at  each  other  like  wild  beasts  of  the  jungle. 
As  I  have  said,  both  armies  were  too  exhausted 
after  the  two  days'  terrible  combat  in  the  Wil- 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  59 

derness  to  renew  the  struggle.  The  Rebels  had 
fought  with  great  courage  and  tenacity,  but 
they  could  no  longer  drive  back  the  Army  of 
the  Potomac.  It  had  at  last  found  a  leader 
worthy  of  its  devotion.  Lincoln  said  after  the 
Wilderness  battles,  "Any  other  commander 
would  have  fallen  back."  But  this  was  alto 
gether  against  the  temper  of  Grant's  mind.  He 
knew  no  such  word  as  "fail."  He  had  just  the 
quality  that  was  needed  at  this  stage  of  the 
struggle — the  energy  of  patience.  As  soon  as 
he  found,  by  reconnoitring  all  along  the  line  on 
the  morning  of  May  yth,  that  the  enemy  would 
not  attack  him  again  in  the  open  field,  he  gave 
the  command — "Forward!"  and  that  very 
night  the  columns  were  in  motion  towards 
Richmond,  seeking  to  gain  the  next  important 
strategic  point,  Spottsylvania  Court  House, 
fifteen  miles  distant,  and  thus  Grant  planned 
not  only  to  put  himself  between  Lee  and  Rich 
mond,  but  also  to  keep  Lee  from  detaching  any 
force  to  oppose  General  Butler,  who  that  very 
day  had  captured  City  Point  and  was  threat 
ening  Richmond  from  the  South.  But  Lee 
had  divined  Grant's  plan,  and  instructed  An 
derson — now  commanding  Longstreet's  corps — 
to  break  camp  and  bivouac  so  as  to  be  ready  to 
move  to  Spottsylvania  in  the  morning.  It  was 
by  the  merest  accident — one  of  those  chances, 


60    FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

however,  that  decides  the  fate  of  battles — that 
Anderson,  not  finding  a  good  place  to  bivouac, 
began  his  march  that  night,  and  having  fewer 
impedimenta  than  Warren,  who  led  the  ad 
vance  of  Grant's  infantry,  and  having  also  a 
few  hours  the  start,  he  reached  Spottsylvania 
first,  drove  out  the  cavalry  that  Sheridan  had 
sent  ahead,  and  intrenched  a  little  north  of  the 
Court  House. 

When  on  the  morning  of  the  8th  our  advance 
— after  driving  before  it  the  Rebel  cavalry  sent 
out  to  impede  its  march — came  upon  Long- 
street's  infantry  thus  securely  intrenched,  it 
made  one  furious  onset,  but  was  driven  back 
by  the  steady  fire  from  the  Confederate  lines, 
and  began  at  once  to  throw  up  intrenchments 
for  its  own  protection.  Thus  Lee  blocked  the 
second  attempt  of  Grant  to  turn  his  right,  and, 
gaining  time  on  the  8th  to  throw  up  a  strong 
line  of  defence  on  Spottsylvania  Ridge,  he  was 
able  for  twelve  days  to  hold  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac  in  check. 

I  have  said  that  this  seizure  of  the  advanta 
geous  strategic  position  at  Spottsylvania  was 
the  fruit  of  Anderson's  accidental  advance 
before  it  was  ordered.  Even  thus  he  would 
not  have  succeeded  but  for  an  unfortunate 
overruling  of  Sheridan's  plans  by  General 
Meade.  Sheridan  had  on  the  yth  fought  the 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  6l 

Rebel  cavalry  at  Todd's  Tavern  and  routed 
them,  thus  opening  the  way  for  the  infantry 
towards  Spottsylvania.  He  had  also  on  the 
morning  of  the  8th  taken  possession  of  Spottsyl 
vania  with  Wilson's  corps,  and  had  given  orders 
to  Gregg  and  Merritt  to  join  their  divisions 
with  Wilson's  and  hold  Snell's  Bridge  over  which 
Lee  would  have  to  cross  to  get  to  Spottsylvania. 
Our  cavalry  would  thus  have  been  able  to  check 
Anderson  till  Warren,  who  held  our  infantry 
advance,  had  intrenched  himself  at  Spottsyl 
vania.  But  Meade  countermanded  the  orders 
to  Gregg  and  Merritt  and  kept  them  from 
forming  the  junction  with  Wilson.  Sheridan 
was  so  nettled  by  this  interference  that  he  told 
Meade  that  "such  disjointed  operations  as  he 
had  been  requiring  of  the  cavalry  in  the  last 
four  days  would  render  the  corps  useless  before 
long."  Meade,  replying,  suggested  that  "  Stuart 
with  the  Confederate  cavalry  would  do  about 
as  he  pleased  anyway."  At  this  Sheridan  re 
torted  that  he  "  could  whip  Stuart  any  day." 
Meade  went  at  once  to  Grant  and  reported  the 
conversation,  and  Grant  answered:  "Did  he 
say  he  could  whip  Stuart?  Well,  he  generally 
knows  what  he  is  talking  about.  Let  him 
start  right  out  and  do  it."  Meade  immedi 
ately  gave  orders  to  Sheridan  to  proceed  against 
the  enemy's  cavalry,  and  Sheridan,  though  his 


62     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

men  had  been  four  days  with  very  little  food 
or  sleep,  yet  at  once  issued  instructions  to  his 
three  cavalry  divisions  to  concentrate  at  Al- 
drich's.  So  precipitate  was  the  start  that  Sher 
idan  did  not  wait  to  get  extra  rations,  but  doled 
out  what  he  had  on  hand, — three  days'  rations 
for  the  men  and  half  a  day's  rations  for  the 
horses, — and  though  he  received  the  order  for 
the  expedition  on  the  afternoon  of  May  8th, 
his  column  was  in  motion  early  on  the  morning 
of  May  9th. 

In  order  to  deceive  the  enemy  as  to  his  in 
tended  movement — which  the  lines  of  dust 
made  by  his  troopers  might  betray — he  took 
up  his  march,  first,  straight  away  from  them 
towards  Fredericksburg.  Then  when  he  was 
well  out  of  sight  he  turned  sharply  and  marched 
around  the  right  flank  of  Lee's  army  and  took 
the  telegraph  road  towards  Richmond.  His 
column  was  thirteen  miles  long,  and  the  rear 
had  passed  Massaponax  Church  before  Stuart 
suspected  the  movement.  He  immediately 
sent  Fitzhugh  Lee  with  Lomax's  and  Wick- 
ham's  brigades  to  attack  the  rear  of  the  column 
and  try  to  hold  it  till  he  himself  with  the  rest 
oi  his  command  should  intercept  Sheridan  in 
front.  Sheridan  directed  Davies'  brigade  at 
the  rear  of  his  column  to  hold  one  position  after 
another  just  long  enough  to  keep  Fitzhugh  Lee 


IN  THE  CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  63 

busy,  but  not  to  lose  his  connection  with  the 
main  column,  which  kept  straight  on  over  the 
Ny,  the  Po,  and  the  Ta  Rivers,  and  at  night 
reached  the  North  Anna  River,  Merritt's  di 
vision  crossing  at  Anderson's  Ford  and  camping 
on  the  south  side  of  the  stream,  all  except 
Custer's  brigade,  which  kept  on  to  Beaver  Dam 
station  to  cut  the  Virginia  Central  Railroad  and 
to  secure  a  clear  road  to  Richmond.  Custer 
accomplished  both  ends  in  his  usual  swift  and 
gallant  way.  Beaver  Dam  station  was  the  goal 
and  rallying-point  chosen  by  Stuart;  but 
Custer  anticipated  him,  drove  out  a  small  force 
of  the  enemy,  and  recaptured  four  hundred 
prisoners  who  were  being  taken  under  guard 
to  Richmond,  and  whose  joy  on  seeing  the 
flashing  sabres  of  our  cavalry  can  only  be  imag 
ined.  Custer  also  destroyed  the  station,  two 
locomotives,  three  trains  of  cars,  ninety  wagons, 
ten  miles  of  railroad,  a  million  and  a  half  of 
rations,  and  nearly  all  the  medical  stores  of 
General  Lee's  army.  These  last  had  just  been 
brought  forward  from  Orange  Court  House  for 
convenient  use  in  Lee's  retreat  towards  Rich 
mond. 

On  the  morning  of  the  loth,  while  Gregg  and 
Wilson  were  crossing  the  North  Anna,  Stuart 
appeared,  having  crossed  a  few  miles  above  on 
Davenport's  bridge;  but  he  was  too  late  to 


64    FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

throw  any  effective  obstacle  in  Sheridan's  path 
at  that  point;  so  he  turned  and  started  off 
once  more,  and  urged  his  horses  to  the  death 
to  get  ahead  of  Sheridan's  column  and  inter 
pose  between  him  and  Richmond.  This  left 
Sheridan's  march  almost  unimpeded  that  day 
along  the  Negro-foot  road,  and  his  famished 
horses  got  well  fed  and  rested,  and  he  en 
camped  for  the  night  on  the  south  side  of  the 
South  Anna,  congratulating  himself  that  now 
he  had  drawn  Stuart  far  enough  away  to  fight 
him  without  fear  of  the  intervention  of  Lee's 
infantry.  At  two  o'clock  on  the  morning  of 
the  llth,  Sheridan  sent  Davies'  brigade  to  the 
Ashland  station  of  the  Richmond  and  Potomac 
Railroad,  and,  though  it  was  guarded  by  a 
regiment  of  Virginians,  he  drove  them  out  in  a 
gallant  charge  led  by  the  First  Massachusetts 
Cavalry  and  then  destroyed  a  locomotive  and 
train  of  cars,  and  the  track  for  a  long  distance, 
and  got  away  before  Fitzhugh  Lee  reached  it — 
as  he  must  in  his  march  to  join  Stuart.  This 
was  one  of  numberless  instances  where  Sheri 
dan's  sleepless  vigilance  and  swift  movements 
secured  him  great  advantages  over  his  enemies. 
Stuart,  by  forced  marches,  reached  Yellow 
Tavern,  six  miles  from  Richmond,  on  the 
Brook  turnpike  at  ten  o'clock  on  the  morning 
of  the  nth,  and  shortly  afterwards  Sheridan's 


IN  THE  CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  65 

advance  under  Merritt  approached  the  place, 
and  at  once  attacked  and  drove  the  enemy 
beyond  the  turnpike  so  that  Wilson's  division, 
immediately  following  with  one  of  Gregg's 
brigades,  was  able  to  form  an  advantageous 
line  of  battle  on  the  east  of  the  pike.  Here 
followed  a  very  hot  battle,  which,  however, 
was  soon  determined  in  Sheridan's  favor  by  a 
brilliant  mounted  charge  of  Custer's  brigade, 
supported  by  the  whole  of  Wilson's  division. 
This  broke  and  turned  the  enemy's  left,  and 
then  Gibbs'  and  Devin's  brigades  drove  the 
enemy's  centre  and  right  from  the  field.  At 
the  same  time  Gregg  charged  upon  and  routed 
Gordon's  brigade  which  had  been  hanging  upon 
our  rear;  and  thus  the  battle  ended  with 
Sheridan  in  complete  control  of  the  road  to  Rich 
mond,  with  the  enemy's  cavalry  broken  up  and 
badly  beaten  and  Generals  Stuart  and  Gordon 
killed. 

Right  here  Sheridan — as  he  afterwards  con 
fessed  to  Senator  Plumb — resisted  the  greatest 
temptation  of  his  life.  Richmond  was  right 
before  him,  drained  of  her  usual  defenders  by 
Butler's  demonstration  on  the  south.  Sheridan 
knew  that  he  could  dash  in  and  burn  and  kill 
right  and  left,  and  knew  also  that  the  tidings 
of  his  being  in  Richmond  would  have  set  every 
bell  in  the  North  to  ringing,  and  he  would  have 


66    FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND  PRISON 

been  made  the  hero  of  the  hour.  But  he  knew 
also  that  it  would  cost  the  lives  of  many  of  his 
soldiers  and  for  no  permanent  advantage;  and 
as  he  thought  not  of  glory  but  of  results,  he 
spurned  the  temptation  as  soon  as  it  was  sug 
gested,  and  made  his  plans  to  extricate  his 
command  from  the  new  combinations  which 
the  enemy  would  be  sure  to  make.  To  this  end 
he  sent  one  party  down  the  Brook  turnpike 
towards  Richmond,  and  they  brushed  away 
the  guards  and  entered  the  outer  defences  of 
the  city,  and  Sheridan — discovering  a  country 
road  between  the  lines  of  earthworks — hoped 
by  that  route  to  reach  Mechanicsville  and  thus 
save  quite  a  distance  in  his  march  to  HaxalPs 
Landing.  But  not  only  was  his  path  infested 
with  torpedoes  planted  to  obstruct  his  passage, 
but  his  advance  under  Wilson  came  upon 
General  Bragg  with  three  brigades  of  regular 
infantry — just  called  in  from  confronting  Butler 
south  of  the  James — and  with  four  or  five  thou 
sand  irregular  troops  under  the  eye  of  Jefferson 
Davis.  These  advanced  from  behind  their 
earthworks  and  attacked  Wilson  and  at  first 
drove  him  back.  But  when  the  Confederate 
advance  came  upon  Gregg,  he  met  them  with 
such  a  hot  fire,  from  his  dismounted  cavalry 
men  and  from  Robinson's  batteries  of  horse- 
artillery,  that  they  began  to  waver,  and  then 


IN  THE  CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  67 

Wilson  rallied  his  men  and  charged  and  turned 
the  enemy's  right  flank,  and  compelled  Bragg 
to  withdraw  his  whole  force  within  the  second 
line  of  earthworks  from  which  it  had  so  confi 
dently  sallied  forth. 

Meanwhile  Merritt  had  been  sent  with  his  di 
vision  to  secure  Meadow  Bridge  for  a  crossing 
over  the  Chickahominy,  but,  finding  it  de 
stroyed  and  the  enemy's  cavalry  and  a  section 
of  artillery  guarding  the  opposite  bank,  it 
seemed  hopeless  to  attempt  to  rebuild  the  bridge. 
But  Sheridan  sent  word  that  it  must  be  done  at 
all  hazards.  So  Merritt  sent  two  of  his  regi 
ments  to  ford  the  river  above  the  bridge  and 
try  to  drive  away  the  enemy,  but  they  failed 
and  were  driven  back.  Still  his  working  parties 
kept  on  repairing  the  bridge  though  all  the  time 
exposed  to  a  hot  fire  from  the  enemy,  and  soon 
Merritt  was  able  to  get  his  whole  division  over 
the  bridge.  He  then  dismounted  them  and 
charged  and  carried  the  enemy's  line  of  entrench 
ments,  and  remounting  pursued  the  fleeing 
Rebels  as  far  as  Games'  Mills. 

Thus  Sheridan  was  both  in  front  and  rear 
master  of  the  situation,  and  he  was  prepared 
for  even  more  desperate  straights.  For  while 
the  battle  with  Bragg  was  going  on  he  had  sent 
out  scouts  who  had  discovered  several  fords 
over  the  Chickahominy  by  which  he  could 


68     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

have  retreated,  if  necessary.  It  was  this  pre 
paredness  for  all  possible  emergencies  which 
made  Sheridan  the  great  General  which  all  now 
admit  him  to  have  been.  He  remained  on  the 
field  of  his  encounter  with  Bragg,  undisturbed 
the  rest  of  the  day,  and  spent  the  time  "collect 
ing  the  wounded,  burying  the  dead,  grazing  the 
hungry  horses,  resting  his  tired  men,  and  him 
self  reading  the  Richmond  journals  which  an 
enterprising  Southern  boy  had  brought  in." 

The  next  day,  Sheridan  took  up  his  march 
over  Meadow  Bridge  and  then  turned  south 
ward  and  marched  by  way  of  Mechanicsville 
and  Bottom's  Bridge  towards  Haxall's  Landing 
on  the  James,  where  it  had  been  arranged  that 
he  should  get  supplies  from  General  Butler. 

Thus  in  four  days  the  purpose  of  the  expedi 
tion  was  accomplished.  Lee's  lines  of  railroad 
communication  had  been  cut  and  for  many 
miles  destroyed,  his  supplies  had  been  seriously 
depleted,  his  cavalry  had  been  broken  to  pieces, 
and  his  favorite  cavalry  leader  had  been  killed. 
Stuart  up  to  this  time  had  proved  himself  in 
vincible.  He  was  to  the  cavalry  what  Jackson 
had  been  to  the  infantry.  His  loss  was  an 
irreparable  blow  to  the  Confederacy,  and  Lee 
confessed  to  one  of  his  staff  that  he  could  scarcely 
think  of  it  without  weeping.  Sheridan  had  not 
only  vindicated  his  boast  that  he  could  whip 


IN  THE  CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  69 

Stuart  anywhere,  but  he  had  added  wonderfully 
to  the  confidence  of  the  cavalry  corps  both  in 
him  and  in  its  own  prowess.  For  now  it  felt 
that  it  could  go  anywhere  and  make  itself  a  most 
efficient  arm  of  the  service. 

After  a  few  days'  recruiting  at  Haxall's 
Landing,  Sheridan  crossed  the  Chickahominy 
at  Jones'  bridge  and  the  Pamunkey  at  White 
House  and  on  May  24th  joined  Grant  at 
Chesterfield  station  on  the  Richmond  &  Poto 
mac  Railroad.  Both  Grant  and  Meade  were 
warm  in  their  praises  of  what  Sheridan  had 
accomplished,  and  admitted  that  he  had  aided 
materially  in  forcing  Lee's  retrograde  march 
to  the  North  Anna,  and  had  made  it  easy  to 
guard  the  immense  train  of  Union  wagons  while 
changing  to  the  new  base  of  supplies  at  Aquia 
Creek.  Up  to  this  time  Southern  cavaliers  had 
scoffed — and  with  some  reason — at  the  Union 
cavalry.  But  henceforth  under  the  inspiration 
of  Sheridan's  gallant  leadership  it  became  a 
very  essential  element  in  every  successful  move 
ment  of  the  Union  armies  in  Virginia. 

We  left  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  on  the  8th 
of  May  to  follow  Sheridan.  Now  let  us  return 
to  the  main  column  as  it  approaches  Spottsyl- 
vania  and  finds  the  ridge  strongly  defended, 
and  sets  about  intrenching  itself. 


70    FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

On  the  Qth  of  May  the  army  was  all  brought 
into  line  of  battle,  with  Hancock  on  the  right, 
then  Warren,  then  Sedgwick,  and  Burnside 
holding  the  left.  Aside  from  these  movements 
to  take  up  position  and  intrench,  our  forces 
were  quiet  during  the  day.  The  Confederate 
sharpshooters  were  however  very  active,  and 
while  Sedgwick  was  examining  his  line  of 
defence  he  saw  his  men  trying  to  dodge  the 
stray  bullets,  and  said:  "Pooh,  men,  don't 
duck!  They  couldn't  hit  an  elephant  at  that 
distance."  As  he  spoke,  a  bullet  pierced  his 
brain,  and  he  fell  dead.  He  was  a  fine  soldier; 
brevetted  a  Major  for  gallantry  in  the  Mexican 
War,  he  had  risen  to  be  Major  General  in  the 
Army  of  the  Potomac  and  was  the  beloved  chief 
of  the  Sixth  Corps.  Grant  said  he  was  worth 
more  than  a  whole  division. 

On  the  following  day,  May  10,  at  9.30  A.M., 
Grant  wrote  this  despatch  to  the  Secretary 
of  War:  "The  enemy  hold  our  front  in  very 
strong  force,  and  evince  a  strong  determination 
to  interpose  between  us  and  Richmond  to  the 
last.  I  shall  take  no  backward  steps."  Then 
after  various  tentative  thrusts  by  single  divi 
sions,  a  general  assault  was  ordered  for  the 
afternoon,  Grant  himself  supervising  the  ad 
vance  by  Warren  and  Wright.  But  although 
the  Sixth  Corps  carried  the  enemy's  first  line 


IN  THE  CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  71 

of  intrenchments  and  captured  a  thousand 
prisoners  in  a  most  gallant  assault  led  by  Col. 
Emory  Upton, — who  was  for  his  splendid  pluck 
made  a  Brigadier  General  on  the  spot, — yet 
the  advantage  was  lost  by  the  feeble  following 
of  Mott's  division;  and  in  front  of  Warren  the 
repulse  was  so  bloody  that  it  inflicted  a  loss  of 
several  thousands  of  his  troops.  General  Porter 
tells  us  that  in  the  hottest  part  of  the  after 
noon's  conflict  General  Grant  sat  down  upon  a 
stump  to  write  a  despatch,  when  a  shell  ex 
ploded  directly  in  front  of  him.  "He  looked 
up  a  moment  and  then  without  the  slightest 
change  of  countenance  went  on  writing  the 
message."  On  the  right  of  the  Union  line  was 
the  only  place  where  Lee's  army  ventured  to 
come  out  of  his  intenchments,  and  here  General 
Barlow,  H.  C.  1855,  with  two  brigades  was 
holding  a  crossing  of  the  Po.  Lee,  noting  his 
isolation  from  the  main  body  of  the  Union 
army,  sent  out  a  whole  corps  to  capture  or 
annihilate  him;  but  Barlow  with  splendid 
tenacity  held  his  position  against  two  fierce 
assaults,  and  inflicted  great  loss  upon  the  enemy. 
And  when  Grant  ordered  Barlow  to  withdraw, 
he  retired  in  good  order,  taking  up  his  bridges 
in  presence  of  the  enemy.  On  the  left  of  the 
Union  line  Burnside  had  advanced  without 
much  opposition  to  within  a  few  hundred  yards 


72    FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND  PRISON 

of  Spottsylvania  Court  House,  thus  getting 
upon  Lee's  right  flank;  but  he  did  not  appre 
ciate  the  importance  of  his  position  nor  did  he 
press  his  advantage,  and  at  nightfall  he  was 
withdrawn  to  connect  his  corps  with  the 
Sixth  on  his  right. 

Having  thus  failed  to  pierce  the  enemy's  line 
in  a  general  assault,  Grant  resolved  to  concen 
trate  heavily  on  the  centre,  and  May  nth  was 
spent  in  busy  preparations  to  this  end.  He 
found  time,  however,  to  send  off  this  hasty 
despatch  to  the  Secretary  of  War:  "We  have 
now  ended  the  sixth  day  of  very  hard  fighting. 
The  result  to  this  time  is  much  in  our  favor. 
Our  Ipsses  have  been  heavy,  but  I  think  the 
loss  of  the  enemy  must  be  greater.  We  have 
taken  over  four  thousand  prisoners  in  battle, 
while  he  has  taken  from  us  but  few  except 
stragglers.  I  purpose  to  fight  it  out  on  this 
line  if  it  takes  all  summer."  This  last  sen 
tence — now  become  famous — rang  through  the 
North,  like  a  clarion,  its  inspiring  expression 
of  Grant's  energy  of  patience.  It  relieved  the 
general  suspense,  and  brought  the  people  up  to 
Grant's  grim  determination  to  fight  right 
through  to  victory  regardless  of  cost. 

Thursday,  May  I2th,  brought  a  long  and 
desperate  battle  in  which  the  post  of  peril  and 
of  honor  was  given  to  General  Hancock.  He 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  73 

had  held  the  same  critical  position  at  Gettys 
burg  and  had  acquitted  himself  so  splendidly 
that  he  drew  the  thanks  of  Congress  and  of  the 
country.  He  was  every  inch  a  soldier.  Tall 
and  handsome,  his  majestic  bearing  and  mag 
netic  presence  excited  admiration  and  com 
manded  confidence;  and  his  flashing  glance 
as  he  rode  down  the  line  of  battle  fired  his  men 
with  his  own  courage  and  inspired  them  to 
supreme  devotion.  He  was  the  idol  of  the 
infantry  and  its  most  superb  corps  commander. 
His  Gettysburg  wounds  were  still  troubling 
him,  but  he  did  not  spare  himself,  and  he  gal 
lantly  accepted  the  task  of  making  the  main 
assault  on  the  morning  of  May  I2th.  His 
troops  were  in  poor  condition,  one  would  think, 
for  making  a  spirited  attack;  for  not  only  were 
they  worn  with  the  exhausting  labors  of  the 
six  days'  battles,  but  they  had  been  tramping 
all  night  long,  having  been  withdrawn  from 
the  right  of  the  Union  line  on  the  evening 
of  May  nth  as  soon  as  the  darkness  made  a 
cover  for  their  movement.  To  add  to  their 
discomfort  the  rain  had  poured  in  torrents  all 
the  day  before  and  through  this  night,  and  the 
earth  was  so  soaked  it  spurted  water  like  a 
sponge  at  every  pressure  of  the  soldiers'  feet. 
The  night  was  so  dark  that  all  motion  was 
made  very  difficult,  and  the  locality  was  so 


74     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

little  known  and  so  thickly  wooded  that  the 
direction  of  advance  had  to  be  determined  and 
guided  by  the  compass.  It  took  till  midnight 
for  Hancock's  corps  to  pass  behind  the  Fifth 
and  Sixth,  and  then  it  took  till  nearly  morning 
to  get  them  into  position.  Towards  daybreak 
the  rain  ceased,  but  a  dense  fog  lingered  and 
concealed  the  assaulting  column  though  it  was 
only  twelve  hundred  yards  from  the  enemy's 
intrenchments.  At  4.30,  tired  as  were  Han 
cock's  men,  they  were  ready  to  follow  their 
beloved  commander,  and  at  the  word  they 
rushed  forward  in  utter  silence  and  without 
firing  a  shot.  First  they  toiled  through  a  soft 
marsh,  then  waded  through  a  stagnant  swamp, 
then  up  a  thickly  wooded  ascent,  and  when 
they  came  within  about  four  hundred  yards  of 
the  Rebel  line  they  set  up  a  great  shout  and 
rushed  forward  on  the  double-quick  up  and 
over  the  breastworks,  and  after  a  short  but  des 
perate  hand-to-hand  contest  with  bayonets 
and  clubbed  muskets,  captured  twenty  pieces 
of  artillery,  thirty  stand  of  colors,  and  more 
than  four  thousand  prisoners,  including  two 
generals  and  embracing  most  of  Johnson's 
division  of  Ewell's  corps.  Hancock  at  once 
turned  the  captured  guns  against  the  enemy, 
and  advanced  his  own  line  a  half-mile  within 
the  Rebel  intrenchments.  The  Second  Corps 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  75 

was  now  a  wedge  inserted  between  Lee's  right 
and  centre,  and  if  this  wedge  could  have 
been  driven  home,  it  would  have  shattered  Lee's 
line  and  put  his  army  in  jeopardy.  But  un 
fortunately  Hancock  was  unsupported,  though 
Warren  was  ordered  to  sustain  him;  and  he 
was  compelled  to  fall  back,  though  disputing 
every  inch  of  the  ground,  till  he  reached  the 
breastworks  he  had  first  taken  by  assault. 
"These  he  turned,  facing  them  the  other  way 
and  continued  to  hold."  Against  this  line  Lee 
made  five  of  the  most  terrific  assaults  ever  flung 
against  a  heroic  foe,  but  in  vain.  For  twenty 
hours  he  continued  the  desperate  struggle  and 
then  a  little  after  midnight  drew  back  his 
bleeding  columns  behind  his  second  line  of 
intrenchments  and  gave  up  all  further  attempt 
to  regain  his  lost  ground. 

This  was  the  most  hotly  contested  field  of 
the  whole  war,  and  Hancock's  share  in  it  was 
a  masterpiece  of  brilliant  execution  followed 
by  a  marvel  of  heroic  pertinacity.  Over  the 
comparatively  small  space  where  the  battle 
raged  the  fiercest,  more  than  five  thousand  men 
had  fallen  on  the  Union  side  alone.  The  ground 
was  literally  covered  with  the  slain  in  piles 
three,  four,  and  five  deep,  and  sometimes  the 
wounded  lay  under  the  dead.  Sometimes  the 
combatants  were  separated  only  by  the  breast- 


76    FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

works,  their  rival  colors  almost  touching  in  the 
dread  encounter.  The  whole  forest  within 
range  was  mowed  down  by  the  fire  of  the 
musketry,  and  yet  one  of  the  trees  was  an  oak 
twenty-two  inches  in  diameter,  and  it  was  cut 
in  two  with  the  bullets  almost  as  clean  as  with 
a  saw.  (Years  after,  the  remaining  trunk  was 
dug  up  by  the  roots  and  removed  to  the  Na 
tional  Museum  as  a  curious  memento.) 

On  the  left  of  our  line  Burnside  had  advanced 
close  to  the  enemy,  and  one  of  his  divisions  had 
climbed  over  the  parapet  but  was  forced  back. 
Still  he  succeeded  in  keeping  Lee  from  drawing 
away  troops  to  reinforce  his  centre,  which 
Hancock  was  threatening.  On  the  right  of  our 
line,  both  Wright  and  Warren  were  at  differ 
ent  times  withdrawn  to  support  Hancock. 
Wright,  though  wounded  early  in  the  day,  re 
mained  on  the  field  till  midnight,  and  accom 
plished  all  that  could  be  asked.  But  Warren's 
sluggish  movements  so  nettled  Grant,  that  he 
gave  written  orders  to  Meade  to  relieve  Warren 
of  his  command  if  he  failed  again  to  move 
promptly.  I  believe  no  one  ever  doubted 
Warren's  ability,  but  he  seemed  to  have  a  con 
stitutional  incapacity  for  trusting  his  superiors 
and  for  executing  their  commands  in  the  spirit 
in  which  they  were  given.  Grant  bore  with 
him  as  with  others  with  wonderful  patience, 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  77 

but  the  first  time  Sheridan  met  Warren's  dila- 
toriness,  as  at  Five  Forks,  he  relieved  him  on 
the  spot. 

In  this  battle  at  Spottsylvania  Court  House, 
though  no  decisive  strategic  advantage  was 
gained  by  our  arms,  it  was  plain  to  be  seen  that 
our  army  was  beginning  to  acquire  the  habit 
of  driving  the  enemy  instead  of  being  driven. 
Meade  was  here  prompted  to  issue  this  con 
gratulatory  order  to  his  troops: — 

"For  eight  days  and  nights  almost  without 
intermission  through  rain  and  sunshine  you 
have  been  gallantly  fighting  a  desperate  foe  in 
positions  naturally  strong  and  made  doubly  so 
by  intrenchments.  Your  heroic  deeds  and  noble 
endurance  will  ever  be  memorable,  and  the 
courage  and  fortitude  you  have  displayed  render 
your  commanding  General  confident  that  your 
future  efforts  will  result  in  success." 

The  next  week,  May  I3th  to  2Oth,  was  one 
of  almost  constant  rain,  compelling  the  post 
ponement  of  all  offensive  operations,  except 
now  and  then  an  effort  to  find  a  point  where 
the  enemy's  line  could  be  broken.  But  each 
attempt  was  repulsed,  and  on  the  2Oth  of  May, 
Grant  determined  to  continue  the  strategic 
movement  which  he  had  begun  in  the  Wilder 
ness,  and  by  a  flank  march  disengage  the 
enemy  from  his  position.  This  was  done  by  tak- 


78     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

ing  Hancock's  corps  from  the  right  of  the  army 
and  marching  it  by  night  behind  the  other  corps 
towards  the  left.  It  thus  pushed  southward 
as  far  as  Milford  station  on  the  Fredericksburg 
&  Richmond  Railroad,  and  secured  the  bridge 
across  the  Mattapony  at  that  point.  But  the 
same  night  on  which  Hancock  started,  Lee, 
apprised  of  the  movement  by  his  scouts,  sent 
Longstreet  with  his  corps  down  the  Telegraph 
Road  to  make  sure  of  blocking  the  way  between 
Grant  and  Richmond.  The  next  strategic 
point  of  importance  towards  which  both  armies 
now  turned  was  Hanover  Junction,  where  the 
Central  Railroad  of  Virginia  meets  that  leading 
from  Richmond  to  Fredericksburg.  It  was 
by  the  Central  Railroad  that  the  Confederates 
received  most  of  their  supplies — for  it  was  the 
most  direct  route  of  communication  with  the 
Shenandoah  Valley.  The  advance  corps  of 
the  Union  army  reached  the  North  Anna,  near 
the  place  where  it  is  crossed  by  the  Fredericks 
burg  Railroad,  on  the  afternoon  of  May  23d, 
but  only  to  find  Lee  strongly  posted  on  the 
opposite  bank.  Hancock's  corps,  however, 
forced  a  passage  across;  while  Warren's  corps 
crossed,  wading  waist-deep,  at  Jericho  Ford 
five  miles  above,  and  repulsed  the  enemy  at 
every  point,  taking  nearly  a  thousand  prisoners. 
The  Sixth  Corps  followed  Warren,  and  thus 


IN  THE  CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  79 

three  corps  were  across.  But  when  Burnside 
attempted  to  cross  at  Ox  Ford — half-way  be 
tween  the  other  two  crossings — he  came  upon 
Lee's  centre  strongly  intrenched,  and  was  driven 
back  with  great  loss.  Thus  Lee  had  again 
blocked  Grant's  direct  line  of  march;  for  the 
right  and  left  wings  of  our  army,  although  they 
had  made  a  brilliantly  successful  passage  of  the 
river,  were  separated  by  several  miles,  and 
neither  could  reinforce  the  other  without  mak 
ing  a  double  passage  of  the  river.  Lee  had 
formed  his  line  very  skilfully  in  the  shape  of  an 
obtuse  angle  with  its  blunt  apex  thrust  out  to 
the  North  Anna  River  at  Ox  Ford,  his  right 
thrown  back  towards  the  Hanover  marshes 
and  his  left  resting  on  Little  River.  The  more 
this  position  was  examined,  the  less  did  Grant 
wish  to  attack  it.  So  after  spending  two  days 
in  various  reconnoissances  and  destroying  many 
miles  of  the  Central  Railroad,  he  took  up  again 
his  movement  by  the  left  flank  in  order  to  com 
pel  Lee  to  come  out  of  his  intrenchments. 

Sheridan's  cavalry  had  just  returned  from 
its  raid  towards  Richmond,  and  was  now  ready 
both  to  cover  this  new  move  of  the  Army  of 
the  Potomac  and  to  open  the  way  before  it. 
To  cover  it  and  deceive  the  enemy,  Sheridan 
sent  Wilson's  division  on  the  afternoon  of 
May  26th  to  make  a  strong  demonstration  on 


8o    FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

Lee's  left  flank;  and,  under  cover  of  this, 
Grant  withdrew  his  right  wing  in  perfect  safety 
to  the  north  side  of  the  river — a  very  delicate 
and  dangerous  movement  happily  accom 
plished.  Then  Wilson's  cavalry  made  itself 
a  rear  guard,  watching  all  the  fords  until  the 
infantry  had  crossed  and  were  well  on  their 
southern  march,  then  taking  up  the  pontoons 
and  destroying  the  other  bridges.  To  open 
the  way  before  the  advance  of  the  infantry 
Sheridan  sent  Gregg's  and  Torbert's  divisions 
to  demonstrate  heavily  at  Taylor's  and  Little- 
page's  Fords  as  if  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  was 
to  cross  there,  and  then,  leaving  a  small  guard 
to  keep  up  the  semblance  of  a  strong  demon 
stration,  both  divisions  pressed  on  to  Hanover- 
town  Ford,  crossed  early  on  the  morning  of  the 
2yth  and  drove  away  the  guards,  and  ad 
vanced  to  Hanovertown,  driving  General  Gor 
don's  brigade  of  Confederate  cavalry  in  the 
direction  of  Hanover  Court  House.  Thus  an 
unobstructed  crossing  was  secured  for  the  in 
fantry,  and  on  the  28th  it  took  up  a  position 
south  of  the  river,  and  Grant  shifted  his  base 
of  supplies  from  Port  Royal  on  the  Rappahan- 
nock  to  White  House  on  the  Pamunkey,  where 
steamers  were  already  in  waiting  with  rations 
and  reinforcements  that  had  come  by  way  of 
Chesapeake  Bay  and  York  River.  But  though 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  8 1 

Grant  thus  made  an  easy  passage  of  the  Pa- 
munkey,  he  found  that  he  could  not  continue 
his  advance  over  the  Chickahominy  without 
a  battle;  for  Lee  had  followed  his  movements 
on  interior  and  shorter  lines  and  was  now  posted 
on  his  line  of  march  near  Cold  Harbor  and  with 
numbers  reinforced  almost  to  the  extent  of 
making  up  for  his  losses  in  the  Wilderness  and 
at  Spottsylvania.  Sheridan  opened  the  way 
on  the  28th  for  the  Union  advance  towards 
Cold  Harbor,  by  dislodging  the  Confederate 
cavalry  which  he  found  intrenched  at  Hawes' 
Shop,  and  which  made  a  very  stubborn  fight 
under  Wade  Hampton  and  Fitzhugh  Lee,  re 
pelling  the  first  attack  by  Gregg's  division,  but 
yielding  before  their  onset  when  reinforced  by 
Custer's  brigade. 

On  the  3  ist  Sheridan  advanced  towards 
Cold  Harbor — the  next  important  strategic 
point,  covering,  as  it  did,  the  roads  to  White 
House  (the  new  base  of  supplies)  and  also  the 
roads  along  which  Grant  must  march  in  his 
next  left  flank  movement  to  the  James.  This 
movement  was  already  determined  upon  on  the 
3Oth,  when  Grant  asked  General  Halleck  to 
have  all  available  pontoons  sent  to  City  Point. 
Lee  appreciated  fully  the  importance  of  Cold 
Harbor  to  himself  as  covering  the  roads  to 
Richmond  and  threatening  Grant's  march  in 


82    FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

flank,  and  he  had  already  sent  forward  both 
infantry  and  cavalry  by  forced  marches  to 
occupy  it.  But  Sheridan  did  not  hesitate  to 
try  to  dislodge  them,  although  he  had  only  a 
part  of  his  command  at  hand.  He  directed 
Torbert's  division  to  attack  the  enemy  in  front 
while  Merritt  with  two  regiments  of  regulars 
passed  round  the  enemy's  left  and  attacked  his 
rear  This  stampeded  the  Confederates  and  left 
Cold  Harbor  in  his  hands;  but  it  was  nine  miles 
away  from  the  nearest  infantry  support,  and 
Sheridan  knew  that  the  enemy  would  return 
reinforced,  so  he  sent  word  to  Grant  that  he 
could  not  hold  the  place  without  support. 
Grant  sent  back  word  to  hold  it  at  all  hazards, 
and  at  once  started  the  Sixth  Corps  on  a  forced 
march  to  the  assistance  of  Sheridan,  who  im 
mediately  utilized  the  Confederate  lines  of  in- 
trenchments  by  turning  them  the  other  way. 
He  then  disposed  his  thin  line  of  dismounted 
men  behind  them  with  boxes  of  ammunition 
at  hand,  and  passed  the  word  that  the  place 
must  be  held.  All  this  was  done  in  the  night. 
On  the  early  morning  of  June  ist,  as  expected, 
the  enemy  returned  reinforced  with  infantry, 
and  advanced  at  once  to  assault  Sheridan's 
position;  but  they  were  received  with  such  a 
hot  carbine-fire  at  close  range  that  they  recoiled; 
and  though  they  rallied  and  made  a  second  as- 


IN  THE  CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  83 

sault  it  was  likewise  repulsed,  and  before  any 
further  attempt  could  be  made  to  dislodge  our 
cavalrymen,  the  Sixth  Corps  arrived  and  se 
cured  the  prize  which  Sheridan  had  so  boldly 
snatched  and  so  bravely  defended.  A  few 
hours  later  Smith's  corps  arrived  from  But 
ler's  command,  coming  by  way  of  White  House; 
and  at  six  o'clock,  though  they  were  very  tired 
and  worn  from  their  long,  dusty,  and  hurried 
march,  they  joined  with  Wright's  corps  in  an 
assault  upon  the  Rebel  lines,  and  together 
they  captured  the  first  line  of  rifle-pits  and  seven 
hundred  prisoners.  On  the  right  of  the  Sixth 
Corps,  Warren  held  a  skirmish  line  of  four  miles 
which  reached  to  Bethesda  Church,  and  re 
pulsed  successfully  three  fierce  assaults  of  the 
enemy.  Grant,  who  had  several  times  been 
vexed  by  Warren's  sluggishness,  was  much 
gratified  by  his  strong  and  determined  resistance 
to  Lee's  desperate  charges,  and  admitted  that 
"there  was  no  officer  more  capable,  no  one 
more  prompt  in  acting,  than  Warren  when  the 
enemy  forced  him  to  it." 

We  praise  the  dogged  persistency  with  which 
a  general  holds  an  important  line,  but  do  we 
appreciate  the  individual  heroisms  that  are  the 
essential  elements  of  that  success?  Seldom,  I 
fear,  unless  we  have  some  personal  knowledge 
of  one  or  another  who  stands  in  the  deadly 


84    FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   TIMSON 

breach  and  makes  himself  a  shield  against  the 
shots  that  are  aimed  at  the  nation's  life.  On 
that  line  of  battle  that  Warren  that  day  held 
was  posted  near  Bethesda  Church  the  Thir 
teenth  Massachusetts  Infantry.  Marshalled 
in  that  regiment  on  that  fiercely  contested  field 
was  my  brother — dearly  beloved.  His  bullet- 
pierced  body,  uncoffined  and  scarcely  en 
wrapped  by  the  cannon-ploughed  sod,  lies 
where  he  fell — the  soldier's  chosen  resting-place. 
And  though  loving  hearts  would  choose  to 
have  some  shrine  to  which  to  make  a  reverent 
pilgrimage,  and  upon  which  to  lay  the  offerings 
of  affectionate  remembrance,  yet  we  know 
that,  wherever  they  sleep,  "the  hallowed  sod, 
unknown  to  men,  is  marked  of  God." 

"On  Fame's  eternal  camping-ground 

Their  silent  tents  are  spread, 
And  Glory  guards  in  solemn  round 
The  bivouac  of  the  dead." 

"Ye  unknown  heroes,  sleeping  where  ye  fell 
In  your  forgotten  graves!  with  secret  shame 

We  feel  our  pulses  beat,  our  foreheads  burn, 
When  we  remember  ye  have  given  so  well 
All  that  ye  had  of  life,  your  very  name, 

And  we  can  give  you  nothing  in  return"  (Note  0). 

When    heroic    youths    thus    pour    out    their 
warm  life-blood  for  freedom  and  fatherland,  we 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  85 

are  apt  to  say — What  a  dreadful  waste!  But 
what  more  could  they  have  done  for  the  world 
if  they  had  lived  a  thousand  years?  What 
higher  attainment  could  they  reach  if  they  had 
ages  to  climb?  In  one  bound  they  leaped  to 
the  highest  moral  and  spiritual  elevation,  and, 
having  given  all,  they  could  no  more. 

June  2d  was  spent  in  making  preparations  for 
the  battle  which  was  determined  on  for  the 
morrow.  Lee  had  carefully  fortified  his  lines 
with  earthworks,  which  his  army  had  now 
learned  to  make  with  great  facility  after  the 
experience  of  the  month's  campaign  of  defence; 
for  since  the  battles  of  the  Wilderness  Lee  had 
not  ventured — except  in  detached  sallies — to 
take  the  offensive.  It  was  much  safer  to  fight 
behind  breastworks.  These  were,  first,  a  layer 
of  stout  logs,  breast-high,  forming  the  frame 
work  on  which  a  thick  parapet  of  earth  would 
be  thrown  up;  then  in  front  of  this  line  the 
timber  for  several  hundred  yards  would  be 
felled,  making  an  elaborately  interlaced  abatis; 
and  still  in  front  of  this  almost  impregnable 
defence  would  be  several  lines  of  rifle-pits  from 
which  would  flame  out  death  and  destruction  to 
any  approaching  force.  Yet  even  from  these 
jaws  of  hell  our  attacking  columns  had  several 
times  plucked  costly  victories,  and  it  was 
hoped  that  success  might  now  crown  the  efforts 


86    FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

which  sought,  not  without  sacrifice,  to  reap 
the  fruits  of  patriotic  devotion.  But  besides 
the  strong  intrenchments  which  Lee  had  now 
thrown  up,  his  army  was  posted  in  a  most 
favorable  position  for  defence,  having  the 
Chickahominy  to  protect  both  flanks  and  also 
his  rear,  while  in  front  of  his  line  were,  here 
almost  impenetrable  thickets,  and  there  al 
most  impassable  marshes.  The  Union  forces 
were  drawn  up  with  the  right  resting  on 
Totopotomoy  Creek,  and  the  left  thrust  be 
yond  Old  Cold  Harbor  on  the  road  to  Dispatch 
station. 

The  attack  was  ordered  for  half-past  four  on 
the  morning  of  June  3d,  and  was  to  be,  as  usual, 
an  assault  along  the  whole  line,  another  stroke 
of  the  hammer  in  the  hand  of  Grant  to  crush 
out  rebellion;  but  as  yet  the  rebound  of  the 
hammer  from  the  rebellious  anvil  has  in  almost 
every  case  in  this  campaign  destroyed  twice  as 
many  as  its  fall  has  crushed.  And  now,  sad  to 
tell!  we  are  to  see  the  hard  necessity  of  weight 
ing  the  hammer  with  ten  patriots  to  crush  one 
rebel,  so  strong  was  the  position  to  be  assaulted. 
The  Union  lines  advanced  as  ordered,  and 
swept  over  the  first  part  of  the  space  between 
the  hostile  intrenchments  in  as  good  order  as 
tearing  through  thickets  and  wading  through 
swamps  would  allow;  but  they  were  received 


IN  THE  CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  87 

with  such  a  terrible  fire  from  behind  the  in- 
trenchments,  that  only  in  a  few  places  along 
the  whole  line  did  any  of  our  assaulting  col 
umns  enter  them,  and  then  only  to  be  beaten 
back.  The  utmost  that  could  be  done  was  to 
retain  possession  of  an  advanced  position  more 
or  less  close  to  the  enemy's  lines.  The  loss  in 
this  assault  must  have  been  ten  thousand 
within  an  hour,  and  the  battle  was  all  over 
within  two  hours,  with  thirteen  thousand  as 
the  total  loss  on  the  Union  side  to  as  many 
hundreds  on  the  Confederate  side.  Heroic 
deeds  of  valor  that  cannot  here  be  detailed  were 
enacted  in  every  part  of  the  field.  Sometimes 
our  lines  were  advanced  and  maintained  within 
fifteen  yards  of  the  enemy's  earthworks,  but  no 
valor  could  accomplish  the  impossible  task  of 
taking  them  by  direct  assault;  and  so  Grant 
gave  up  the  attempt  to  take  Richmond  from 
the  north  and  east.  He  always  regretted  that 
he  made  this  assault  at  Cold  Harbor,  for  there 
was  no  compensating  gain  to  offset  the  terrible 
suffering  and  loss.  These  were  unnecessarily 
aggravated  by  Lee's  haughty  and  cruel  refusal 
to  let  the  men  lying  wounded  between  the  lines 
be  picked  up  by  our  unarmed  hospital  attend 
ants.  It  took  two  days  of  negotiating  to  sat 
isfy  him  as  to  the  manner  of  their  removal, 
and  then  all  but  two  had  died.  I  can  imagine 


88    FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

no  more  harrowing  picture  of  the  horrors  of 
war  than  this  of  those  hundreds  of  wounded 
men  in  mortal  agony  within  sight  of  easy  relief 
that  never  came.  And  yet  this  was  not  an 
uncommon  experience  in  that  fearful  Wilder 
ness  campaign  when  for  thirty  days  Grant  had 
tried  to  get  between  Lee  and  Richmond  and 
had  been  thwarted.  Through  a  long  and 
weary  month  our  army  had  fought  by  day 
only  to  march  southward  by  night  and  renew 
the  fight  on  the  morrow.  But  the  enemy  was 
always  vigilant  and  marched  by  parallel  but 
shorter  lines;  and  after  the  battles  of  the  Wil 
derness  Lee  followed  the  safe  policy  of  fighting 
only  behind  intrenchments,  or  within  safe  dis 
tance  from  them.  Thus  this  month's  campaign 
was  a  running  siege  in  which  our  army  took 
constantly  the  risk  and  exposure  of  the  offensive, 
and  so  our  losses  compared  with  that  of  the 
Confederates  were  as  three  to  one,  and  our 
march  from  the  Rapidan  to  the  Chickahominy 
had  left  eight  thousand  mangled  corpses  in  its 
bloody  trail,  while  the  wounded  and  the  miss 
ing  carried  the -fearful  aggregate  up  to  nearly 
sixty  thousand. 

"Ah!  never  shall  the  land  forget 

How  gushed  the  life-blood  of  her  brave, 
Gushed  warm  with  hope  and  courage  yet 
Upon  the  soil  they  fought  to  save." 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  89 

Having  thus  given  up  the  attempt  to  take 
Richmond  from  the  north  and  east,  Grant  de 
cided  to  change  his  base  to  City  Point.  This 
changing  of  base  in  the  face  of  a  vigilant  enemy 
is  the  most  critical  of  manoeuvres.  It  had 
however  been  safely  accomplished  many  times 
in  the  course  of  this  campaign — as  from  Alex 
andria  to  Aquia  Creek,  then  to  Port  Royal, 
then  to  White  House — and  without  the  loss  of 
a  single  wagon,  which  is  very  wonderful  con 
sidering  the  immense  train  of  four  thousand 
teams  that  followed  the  army,  and  considering 
also  that  the  supplies  were  generally  drawn 
from  great  distances  and  over  narrow  roads 
and  through  a  densely  wooded  country.  The 
change  of  base  from  White  House  to  City 
Point  was  accomplished  in  this  wise:  Immedi 
ately  after  the  Battle  of  Cold  Harbor  the  Ninth 
Corps  was  withdrawn  from  the  extreme  right 
of  the  line  on  Totopotomoy  Creek  and  posted  on 
the  left  of  the  Fifth  Corps  near  Bethesda 
Church.  Then  the  Fifth  Corps  was  withdrawn 
and  massed  in  rear  of  the  centre  at  Cold  Harbor, 
ready  to  be  moved  to  any  portion  of  the  line 
if  Lee  should  attack  while  this  march  to  the 
left  was  going  on.  As  Lee  did  not  attack,  the 
next  day  the  Fifth  Corps  was  transferred  to 
the  left  flank  as  far  as  Dispatch  station  on  the 
York  River  Railroad.  In  order  more  perfectly 


90     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

to  cover  this  movement,  Sheridan  was  sent 
with  two  divisions  of  cavalry  to  make  demon 
strations  on  the  north  of  Richmond  and  to 
destroy  more  effectually  the  railroad  connec 
tion  between  Richmond  and  the  Shenandoah 
Valley,  and  Warren  with  the  Fifth  Corps  and 
Wilson's  division  of  cavalry  was  sent  across  the 
Chickahominy  at  Long  Bridge  to  make  a 
demonstration  towards  Richmond  by  the  route 
of  White  Oak  Swamp.  Both  these  feints  were 
successful,  and  led  Lee  to  detach  infantry  and 
cavalry  both  towards  the  north  to  meet  Sheri 
dan  and  towards  the  south  by  way  of  New 
market  to  meet  Warren,  who  remained  in  his 
threatening  position  while  the  Second  Corps 
marched  across  Long  Bridge  towards  the 
James  River  by  the  road  to  Charles  City  Court 
House.  The  corps  of  Wright  and  Burnside 
reached  the  same  point  by  an  exterior  line, 
crossing  the  Chickahominy  by  Jones'  Bridge, 
while  the  wagon-trains  crossed  at  Cole's  Ferry, 
still  further  south,  and  the  Eighteenth  Corps, 
under  Gen.  W.  F.  Smith,  marched  to  White 
House,  where  it  took  transports  and  went  by 
water  to  Bermuda  Hundred.  Grant  crossed 
the  James  at  Windmill  Point  on  pontoons,  Lee 
crossed  near  Drury's  Bluff,  and  both  started  on 
a  race  for  Petersburg;  but  Lee  as  usual  won 
the  race  by  reason  of  his  marching  on  interior 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  91 

lines  and  his  having  a  lighter  equipment,  and 
this  time  he  had  besides  a  railroad  on  which  he 
could  hurry  forward  his  men.  Lee  intrenched 
at  once  before  Petersburg,  and  was  able  to 
make  his  works  so  strong  that — after  several 
attempts  on  the  part  of  the  Union  forces  to 
take  them  by  assault — Grant  settled  down  to 
a  regular  siege,  and  those  lines  were  not  pierced 
till  the  following  spring,  a  few  days  before  the 
end  of  the  war,  and  as  the  result  of  the  Battle 
of  Five  Forks. 

While  these  grander  movements  of  the  main 
army  of  the  east  were  going  on  as  I  have  de 
scribed,  two  other  movements  were  progress 
ing  which  were  intended  to  contribute  to  the 
general  result  in  Virginia.  One  was  by  Gen 
eral  Butler  with  the  Eighteenth  Corps,  under 
Gen.  W.  F.  Smith,  and  the  Tenth  Corps,  under 
Gen.  Q.  A.  Gilmore,  and  a  division  of  cavalry 
under  General  Kautz.  With  this  force  Butler 
started  from  Fortress  Monroe  the  very  day  that 
Grant  crossed  the  Rapidan,  ascended  the 
James  River  on  transports,  and  effected  a 
landing  at  Bermuda  Hundred  on  the  6th  of 
May.  At  that  moment  he  might  very  easily 
have  taken  Petersburg,  and  so  have  compelled 
Lee  either  to  give  up  Richmond  or  bring  his 
army  at  once  to  its  defence;  but  the  oppor 
tunity  was  not  improved,  and  the  very  next 


92    FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

day  General  Beauregard  arrived  from  the 
South  with  sufficient  force  not  only  to  protect 
Petersburg  but  to  drive  Butler  behind  his  in- 
trenchments  and  to  "bottle  him  up"  in  Ber 
muda  Hundred.  Here  he  remained  hermeti 
cally  sealed  till  Grant  uncorked  him  from  his 
position  by  his  own  arrival  at  City  Point  with 
the  Army  of  the  Potomac. 

The  other  movement,  subsidiary  to  the 
grand  one  against  Lee's  army,  was  up  the 
Shenandoah  Valley,  first  by  Sigel,  who  was  de 
feated  by  Breckenridge  at  Newmarket,  May 
1 5th,  and  driven  back  to  Cedar  Creek;  then  by 
Hunter,  who  on  the  5th  of  June  met  the  Con 
federates  at  Piedmont  and  defeated  them, 
capturing  fifteen  hundred  prisoners.  Nothing 
then  prevented  him  from  advancing  on  Lynch- 
burg,  which  he  reached  June  i6th;  but  here  he 
was  met  by  General  Early,  who  had  been  de 
tached  from  Lee's  army  with  twelve  thousand 
men.  Hunter,  being  without  sufficient  am 
munition  to  give  battle,  retired  towards  Lexing 
ton  by  way  of  Kanawha,  destroying  in  his 
march  the  Virginia  &  Tennessee  Railroad  over 
an  extent  of  one  hundred  and  thirty-five  miles. 

The  Shenandoah  Valley  being  thus  left  un 
protected,  General  Early  seized  the  opportunity 
and  made  a  swift  and  unobstructed  march  to 
Martinsburg,  arriving  the  3d  of  July.  Sigel, 


IN  THE  CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  93 

who  held  post  there  with  a  small  force,  at  once 
retreated  across  the  Potomac  at  Shepherds- 
town,  and  Early  pursued  his  march  by  way  of 
Williamsport  and  Hagarstown  to  Frederick, 
arriving  July  7th. 

Here  I  will  leave  him  to  follow  less  impor 
tant  but  more  personally  interesting  events 
nearer  Washington,  where,  of  course,  all  was 
excitement  and  trepidation,  as  the  only  force  at 
hand  to  protect  the  Capital  was  a  body  of  foot- 
artillerists,  hundred  days'  men,  and  convales 
cents, — a  few  thousand  in  all,  and  these  without 
organization  or  discipline, — and  a  small  cavalry 
force  under  Colonel  Lowell,  then  stationed  at 
Falls  Church,  about  fifteen  miles  from  Wash 
ington. 

As  soon  as  it  was  known  in  Washington  on 
July  4,  1864,  that  General  Early  was  approach 
ing  Martinsburg,  orders  were  given  to  our 
brigade  of  cavalry  to  observe  the  passes  of  the 
Blue  Ridge,  and  give  notice  of  any  approach  of 
the  enemy  from  that  quarter.  The  order 
reached  us  on  the  afternoon  of  July  4th,  while 
we  were  celebrating  the  anniversary  of  inde 
pendence  with  athletic  games  and  testing  the 
running  speed  of  our  horses.  Colonel  Lowell  at 
once  ordered  out  Major  Forbes  with  one  hun 
dred  and  fifty  men,  and  as  the  surgeons  were 
fully  occupied  with  hospital  duties,  they  asked 


94    FIELD,  CAiMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

me  to  go  along  and  carry  bandages  and  brandy, 
to  be  ready  to  care  for  the  wounded  in  case  of 
need.  We  started  out  at  eight  o'clock,  and  at 
midnight  halted  at  Ball's  Mill  on  Goose  Creek, 
lying  down  under  arms  by  the  feet  of  our 
horses,  and  holding  the  bridle-rein  in  our  hands, 
to  be  ready  to  remount  at  a  moment's  warn 
ing,  as  we  were  now  in  the  region  infested  with 
guerrillas.  We  were  ordered  to  be  ready  to 
march  again  at  three,  so  we  tried  to  make  our 
selves  as  comfortable  as  we  could  and  to  get  a 
little  sleep.  I  made  my  bed  as  usual  with  two 
fence  rails  nearly  parallel  and  a  piece  of  a  third 
rail  across  them  for  a  pillow,  but  that  night  I 
did  not  have  my  usual  luck,  and  spent  the 
greater  part  of  the  first  hour  trying  vainly  to 
find  the  soft  side  of  my  sharply  angular  pillow. 
I  at  last  got  up  and  searched  out  another  rail 
with  blunter  edges.  Then  as  I  began  to  get 
drowsy  a  detail  from  the  picket-guard  brought 
in  a  guerrilla  and  roused  us,  and  the  Major — 
after  getting  from  him  all  the  information  that 
he  could — told  our  sentry  to  keep  him  under 
guard.  Somehow  I  did  not  feel  sleepy  after 
that,  for  I  thought — what  if  the  sentry  should 
relax  his  vigilance  and  the  captive  should 
butcher  us  in  our  sleep!  Still,  tired  nature 
would  have  its  way,  and  I  began  to  fall  off  again 
to  slumber,  when  I  was  awakened  by  the  shak- 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  95 

ing  of  my  bed.  As  I  looked  up,  what  was  my 
horror  to  find  that  the  prisoner  had  coolly  seated 
himself  on  the  bottom  of  my  fence-rail  couch, 
preferring  it  evidently  to  a  lower  seat  though  it 
be  on  the  sacred  soil  of  Virginia.  At  that  mo 
ment  the  first  sentry  was  relieved  and  a  fresh 
guard  put  on  duty,  and,  as  I  thus  felt  a  little 
more  secure,  I  would  not  disturb  my  guerrilla- 
guest,  but  lay  down  again,  resolved  to  snatch 
a  little  sleep  in  the  last  hour  of  our  halt.  But 
my  horse  had  somehow  got  the  idea  that  we  were 
going  to  move  early,  and  persisted  in  nibbling 
away  at  the  grass  about  my  head,  so  as  not  to 
start  without  rations,  and  from  time  to  time, 
with  undue  familiarity,  he  would  pull  away 
at  my  coat, — showing,  as  some  others,  little 
"respect  for  the  cloth," — and  so  I  failed  to  get 
even  a  wink  of  sleep. 

We  started  again  at  three  o'clock,  and  as  the 
first  rays  of  the  sun  began  to  gild  the  summits  of 
the  Catocktin  Hills  just  before  us  we  dashed 
into  Leesburg,  hoping  to  surprise  the  Rebels  in 
their  sleep;  but  they  were  all  out  with  Mosby, 
and,  without  our  knowing  it,  were  that  night 
only  a  few  miles  away,  concealed  in  the  woods 
near  Waterford  on  the  opposite  slope  of  the 
mountain.  We  spent  this  day  and  the  next 
scouting  up  and  down  between  Aldie  and  Lees- 
burg,  watching  the  gaps  of  the  Blue  Ridge, 


96    FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

through  which  Early  might  possibly  make  a 
descent  upon  Washington.  At  half-past  five 
in  the  afternoon  of  the  second  day  we  stopped 
on  the  Aldie  pike  near  Mount  Zion  Church,  to 
rest  and  get  supper.  Just  as  we  were  about  to 
remount  at  half-past  six  we  were  startled  to 
hear  a  rapid  firing  by  our  pickets  who  were 
posted  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  down  the  pike, 
and  the  Major  at  once  formed  us  in  a  double 
line  of  battle  in  the  field  and  across  the  road, 
facing  the  firing.  Capt.  Goodwin  Stone  of 
Newburyport  commanded  the  first  rank,  and 
Lieut.  C.  W.  Amory  of  Boston  and  Brookline 
had  charge  of  the  second  rank.  The  formation 
was  scarcely  completed  before  a  shell  (from 
Mosby's  twelve-pounder  Napoleon  gun)  came 
whizzing  over  the  heads  of  the  men  in  these 
two  ranks,  and  exploded  right  behind  them 
and  within  a  few  feet  of  where  I  was  standing 
with  the  Major.  It  was  the  first  time  any  of 
us  had  been  treated  to  shells  of  that  kind  for 
supper,  and  both  horses  and  men  were  very 
much  demoralized,  and  the  solid  formation  of 
the  line  was  completely  broken,  and  before 
it  could  be  re-formed,  Mosby  and  his  rangers 
were  upon  us,  swooping  down  like  Indians, 
yelling  like  fiends,  discharging  their  pistols  with 
fearful  rapidity,  and  threatening  to  completely 
envelop  our  little  band.  The  Major  tried  to 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  97 

meet  the  emergency  by  ordering  the  first  and 
third  platoons  of  the  front  rank  to  deploy  as 
skirmishers  and  so  extend  our  line  to  the 
breadth  of  the  attacking  force.  Captain  Stone 
repeated  the  order,  but  the  men  were  either  too 
confused  to  hear  it  or  too  frightened  to  obey  it. 
At  this  crisis,  when  the  men  were  making  no 
organized  resistance  and  firing  only  at  random, 
— some  men  indeed  in  the  rear  rank  firing 
through  the  front  rank  and  doing  more  harm 
to  friends  than  to  foes, — I  said,  "Major,  what 
shall  we  do?"  He  answered,  "We  will  form 
again — in  the  edge  of  the  woods,"  pointing  to  a 
grove  a  few  hundred  yards  to  the  right  of  our 
rear.  Upon  the  word,  he  drew  his  sabre  and 
dashed  along  the  front  of  the  broken  line  amid 
a  shower  of  bullets,  trying  to  inspire  the  men 
with  courage,  and  shouting  to  them:  "Form 
in  the  woods!  Form  in  the  woods!"  And  I 
echoed  the  shout  among  the  men  who  were 
breaking  from  the  ranks  under  the  hot  fire,  and 
we  all  galloped  across  the  field  towards  the 
woods.  But  thus  presenting  our  flank  to  direct 
assault,  Mosby  saw  his  opportunity  and  ordered 
his  reserves  to  charge,  and  thus  the  field  for  us 
was  lost,  for  before  we  could  reach  the  shelter 
of  the  woods,  the  whole  force  of  the  guerrillas 
was  upon  us,  turning  our  retreat  into  a  rout. 
No  words  can  picture  the  confusion  and  horror 


98    FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND  PRISON 

of  that  scene, — horses  madly  leaping  in  the 
pangs  of  death,  riders  crushed  beneath  their 
ruthless  feet;  then  the  panic-stricken  crowd 
galloping  over  their  fallen  companions,  and 
closely  followed  by  the  insolent  foe;  here  and 
there  a  rally,  as  some  brave  spirit,  scorning  de 
feat,  inspired  a  little  courage  in  his  companions 
and  turned  to  face  the  enemy — but  only  to 
die.  One  of  these,  and  pre-eminent  among  the 
rest,  was  our  gallant  Major,  who  turned  his 
horse  towards  the  Rebels,  and  shouting  to  his 
men,  "Now  rally  round  your  leader,"  attempted 
almost  alone  to  stem  the  assault,  and  made  a 
sabre  thrust  at  Mosby  himself,  which  would 
have  ended  the  career  of  the  most  famous  of  the 
"Partisan  Rangers,"  but  for  one  of  his  faithful 
followers — Capt.  Thomas  W.  Richards — throw 
ing  himself  between  and  receiving  the  thrust  in 
the  shoulder.  Just  at  that  moment  Mosby, 
aiming  his  six-shooter  at  Forbes,  happily  missed, 
though  at  short  range;  but  the  Major's  horse 
was  shot  under  him,  and  fell,  pinning  him  to 
the  ground,  and  he  surrendered;  but  a  hot 
headed  guerrilla  dashed  up  and  took  aim,  and 
would  have  shot  the  prostrate  Major  but  for 
his  faithful  bugler,  who  threw  himself  between 
and  delayed  the  fatal  shot.  Thus  the  life  of 
the  leader  of  each  band  was  saved  by  the  heroic 
self-devotion  of  one  of  his  followers,  and  the 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  99 

dark  horrors  of  the  battlefield  were  illumined 
by  the  brilliant  radiance  of  Christian  self-sacri 
fice.  "Greater  love  hath  no  man  than  this, 
that  a  man  lay  down  his  life  for  his  friends." 

While  this  scene  was  enacting  in  one  part  of 
the  field,  I  was  trying  with  Captain  Stone,  in 
another  part  of  the  field  and  nearer  the  woods, 
to  stop  the  flight  of  our  men  and  to  form  them 
again  in  a  defensive  line;  but  it  was  impossible. 
It  was  easy  for  them  to  persuade  themselves 
that  the  day  was  lost,  and  that  the  nearest  duty 
was  for  each  to  look  out  for  himself.  A  de 
moralized  cavalryman  is  far  more  unmanage 
able  than  an  infantryman  in  the  same  situa 
tion;  for  himself  and  his  horse  are  both  bent 
on  flying,  and  the  rider  easily  satisfies  his  con 
science  by  shifting  the  responsibility  of  re 
treat  on  his  unmanageable  steed.  Still  the 
Captain  and  I,  as  we  galloped  along,  tried  to 
reassure  the  men,  and  we  shouted  at  the  top 
of  our  lungs,  "Halt!  Halt!"  but  in  vain;  for 
every  moment  they  heard  more  plainly  and  per 
suasively  some  whistling  bullet  from  the  pur 
suing  guerrillas  screaming,  "Skedaddle!  Ske 
daddle!"  and  so  they  did  at  the  top  of  their 
speed.  Panic  knows  no  law  either  in  its  ori 
gin  or  growth,  and  sometimes  seizes  men  before 
they  are  aware,  and  spreads  from  one  to  an 
other  like  wild-fire.  I  would  not  have  any 


100     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND  PRISON 

one  think  that  these  flying  troopers  were  all 
of  them  cowards.  It  was  the  first  time  for 
most  of  them  to  be  under  fire.  We  shall  see 
later  the  record  which  they  made  for  them 
selves  in  the  Shenandoah  Valley  and  at  Five 
Forks,  and  recognize  that  no  stouter  courage 
and  no  finer  devotion  were  ever  exhibited  in  the 
annals  of  battle.  But  now  the  fates  seemed 
against  them,  and  they  were  flying  madly  from 
the  foe,  who  were  as  madly  giving  us  chase. 
Captain  Stone,  however,  with  great  coolness 
and  with  splendid  pluck  turned,  and  for  a 
moment  succeeded  in  holding  a  handful  of  his 
men,  who  poured  one  volley  into  the  ranks  of 
the  pursuers,  but  he  himself  received  a  bullet- 
wound  and  fell  forward  upon  his  horse's  neck. 
It  was  a  fatal  wound,  as  the  ball  lodged  in  his 
spine.  But  though  he  was  partially  paralyzed, 
he  had  strength  enough  left  to  hold  on,  and  for 
a  few  moments  he  galloped  along  with  me;  as 
however  the  guerrillas  were  sharply  pursuing, 
and  he  was  conscious  that  he  could  do  no  more 
in  the  way  of  rallying  his  men,  he  took  the  first 
opportunity  of  escape,  and  dashed  into  a  wood- 
road  branching  to  the  left,  and  was  lost  under 
cover  of  the  forest.  I  never  saw  him  more.  I 
learned  long  after  that  his  faithful  steed  car 
ried  him — helpless  as  he  was — fourteen  miles 
towards  camp,  and  he  was,  the  next  day,  picked 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  101 

up  by  our  ambulances  and  taken  to  our  camp 
at  Fall's  Church,  where,  though  every  atten 
tion  that  love  and  skill  could  suggest  was  lav 
ished  upon  him,  he  died  July  18,  1864,  gladly 
giving  his  fresh  young  life  for  a  cause  which 
— as  he  said — was  "worthy  of  all  the  sacrifice 
which  a  mysterious  Providence  calls  upon  us 
to  make."  His  last  word  to  me  was,  "Save 
yourself,  Chaplain."  But  I  was  the  only  officer 
now  left  on  the  road,  and  I  felt  that  I  ought  to 
do  what  I  could  for  the  men  who  were  ahead  of 
me  galloping  madly  away.  So  I  put  spurs  to 
my  horse  and  soon  caught  up  with  them,  and 
was  advising  them  not  to  urge  their  horses  to 
death,  when  the  guerrillas  were  again  upon  us, 
and  a  volley  from  them  brought  one  of  our 
men  who  was  in  front  of  me  to  the  ground,  and 
my  horse  had  to  leap  over  him  as  he  fell.  Under 
these  circumstances  there  was  not  much  use 
advising  moderation,  though  in  a  long  chase  it 
was  the  surest  safety.  We  had  already  been 
pursued  for  three  miles;  and  since  it  seemed 
as  if  the  guerrillas  were  determined  to  catch  us, 
I  began,  as  I  dashed  along  behind  the  rest  of 
our  men,  to  put  myself  and  horse  into  the  light 
est  running  order.  I  pulled  off  my  gauntlets, 
unstrapped  my  overcoat  and  oatbag  from  the 
saddle,  and  threw  them  away.  In  a  few 
moments  I  came  upon  one  of  our  men  whose 


102     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

horse  had  been  urged  beyond  his  strength  and 
had  broken  a  blood-vessel  and  in  falling  had 
pinned  his  rider  under  him.  Not  recognizing 
me  as  I  galloped  along,  he  took  me  for  one  of 
the  enemy,  and  shouted,  "I  surrender."  And 
I  heard  the  shout  repeated  behind  me  as  the 
guerrillas  came  up,  and  I  saw  one  of  them — re 
gardless  of  the  Union  soldier's  defenceless  con 
dition — shoot  at  him  as  he  passed.  Things 
began  to  look  desperate  for  me.  I  seemed  to 
be  chased  by  demons.  I  did  not  know  at  the 
time — what  I  learned  afterwards — that  the 
leader  himself  of  the  guerrillas — Colonel  Mosby 
— and  a  dozen  picked  men  (among  them  Ed 
monds  and  Munson)  were  pursuing  me  so  per 
sistently  because  they  thought  I  was  "  Yankee 
Davis" — a  native  Virginian  who  knew  all  the 
country  about  and  the  haunts  of  the  guerrillas, 
and  who  usually,  though  not  this  time,  acted 
as  a  guide  for  our  troopers  in  their  raids  into 
the  enemy's  country.  Colonel  Mosby  knew 
his  value  to  our  side  and  would  have  given 
everything  if  he  could  catch  and  hang  him.  I 
had  been  thus  singled  out  on  the  field  and  mis 
taken  for  him  because  I  was  riding  a  roan- 
colored  horse,  and  the  only  other  of  that  stripe 
in  the  brigade  was  "  Yankee  Davis'."  So  if  I 
had  been  caught,  the  chances  would  have  been 
— "quick  shrift  and  short  rope."  But,  as  luck 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  103 

would  have  it,  my  horse  was  fresh  and  tough, 
and  I  think  Mosby's  must  have  been  worn 
and  tired.  For  he  was  said  to  have  been  the 
best-mounted  man  in  Virginia,  and  he  seldom 
travelled  along  main  roads,  but  took  a  bee-line 
across  fields  regardless  of  walls  and  fences  and 
ditches.  And  yet  he  had  not  overtaken  me 
in  a  chase  of  six  miles,  and  my  horse  had  not 
been  pushed  beyond  his  mettle,  and  showed  no 
signs  of  exhaustion.  But  I  did  not  like  the 
direction  in  which  I  was  going,  although  it  was 
towards  camp  and  safety.  I  felt  that  I  ought 
not  thus  to  be  running  away  from  the  field 
where  the  wounded  needed  nursing  and  the 
dying  needed  comfort  and  companionship. 
And  as  I  was  now  alone — the  rest  of  our  flying 
troopers  being  well  ahead  and  safe  from  cap 
ture —  I  resolved  to  turn  into  the  woods  at  the 
first  favorable  opportunity,  and  if  still  pur 
sued  take  to  my  legs  and  hide  in  the  thickets. 
Among  the  athletes  of  my  Class  in  College 
I  was  accounted  the  fastest  runner,  and  I  felt 
confident  I  could  thus  elude  my  pursuers  with 
out  getting  much  farther  away  from  the  field. 
So,  putting  my  horse  to  a  final  spurt  to  get  out 
of  sight  of  my  pursuers  if  possible,  just  past  a 
sharp  bend  in  the  road  I  dashed  into  the  woods 
— lying  down  flat  on  my  horse's  neck,  so  as 
not  to  be  caught,  as  Absalom  was,  by  the 


104     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

branches.  But,  even  thus,  the  low  limbs 
caught  my  hat.  They  spared  my  head,  how 
ever,  leaving  it  in  its  place  with  only  a  few 
scratches;  and  Mosby  lost  my  trail,  and  the 
hunt  was  up.  More  than  thirty  years  after 
this  adventure,  I  went  to  hear  Mosby  lecture 
in  Boston  in  Tremont  Temple,  and  having  been 
introduced  to  him  as  the  Chaplain  of  the  Sec 
ond  Massachusetts  Cavalry,  I  asked,  "Do  you 
remember  me?"  He  replied,  "No,  but  I 
remember  your  horse."  It  was  the  uncommon 
color  of  my  horse  that  came  so  near  being  my 
undoing.  But  having  thus  escaped  from  the 
open  road  I  still  feared  that  he  might  follow 
and  search  the  woods.  So  I  dismounted  and 
hid  my  horse  in  a  thicket,  and  going  to  a  little 
distance  but  within  sight,  threw  myself  on  the 
ground  to  listen  for  the  first  sound  of  any 
approach.  Thus  waiting  about  twenty  min 
utes  till  I  felt  confident  that  the  guerrillas  were 
out  of  the  way  and  had  returned  to  the  field 
to  gather  up  their  booty  and  carry  off  their 
prisoners,  I  started  forth  to  find  my  hat.  But 
it  was  now  nearing  eight  o'clock,  and  I  soon 
decided  that  I  could  not  waste  the  precious 
moments  in  a  search  that  promised  to  be  fruit 
less  in  the  fast-gathering  darkness.  So  I  re 
mounted,  and  taking  the  road  over  which  I 
had  just  galloped,  I  walked  my  horse  that  I 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  105 

might  not  pass  without  notice  any  wounded 
man.  I  felt  sure  that  there  were  at  least  two 
wounded  men  somewhere  along  the  road,  for 
I  had  seen  them  fall  in  the  chase.  As  I  felt  my 
way  along  in  the  darkness,  I  kept  calling  out, 
"Is  any  wounded  man  here?"  and  soon  I 
heard  a  low  response  and  found  the  man  whose 
disabled  horse  had  in  falling  pinned  him  to  the 
ground,  and  who  was  shot  after  he  surrendered. 
It  was  Owen  Fox,  a  private  in  my  regiment  who 
had  enlisted  from  Braintree.  He  was  very 
weak,  and  I  at  once  gave  him  some  brandy,  but 
I  could  not  in  the  darkness  bind  up  his  wound. 
So  I  hurried  to  the  nearest  house  and  with 
some  trembling  knocked  at  the  door.  Every 
farmhouse  in  this  section  was  a  refuge  for 
guerrillas,  and  every  farmer  was  an  ally  of 
Mosby,  and  every  farmer's  son  was  with  him  or 
in  the  Confederate  army.  But  I  felt  that  suf 
fering  humanity  would  make  a  strong  appeal, 
and  I  was  not,  in  this  case,  mistaken.  I  in 
duced  the  farmer  to  lend  me  a  lantern  and  a 
blanket  and  to  assist  me  in  carrying  the 
wounded  man  to  his  house.  As  soon  as  I  saw 
the  wound,  I  saw  also  that  it  was  mortal.  The 
cruel  shot — fired  after  he  had  surrendered  and 
while  he  begged  for  mercy — had  pierced  his 
body  completely  through.  With  wet  com 
presses  I  was  able  to  stay  the  flow  of  blood,  and 


106     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

leaving  him  in  charge  of  the  farmer's  wife,  I 
sallied  forth  again  into  the  darkness  with  lan 
tern  and  blanket,  the  farmer  accompanying  me, 
and  at  last  found  the  other  soldier  whom  I  had 
seen  fall  in  the  chase,  and  we  carried  him  into 
the  house.  He  was  a  New  Yorker,  and  his 
wound  was  severe  but  not  necessarily  fatal.  It 
was  now  eleven  o'clock,  and  I  was  several  miles 
from  the  battlefield.  I  wanted  very  much  to 
get  to  it,  but  I  feared  that  I  could  not  find  my 
way  in  the  darkness.  So  I  concluded  to  watch 
over  these  two  wounded  men  through  the 
night,  and  then  in  the  morning  to  press  on  to 
the  care  of  the  wounded  on  the  field.  It  was 
not  long  before  it  became  evident  that  Fox 
could  not  live  many  hours;  for  his  strength  was 
fast  ebbing  away  through  that  ghastly  wound, 
spite  of  my  efforts  to  stanch  it.  I  tried  to  get 
from  him  some  message  for  his  wife  and  little 
ones  at  home,  but  he  would  not — his  agonies 
were  too  great;  and  he  kept  crying  out  even 
with  his  dying  groans,  "Chaplain,  they  shot 
me  after  I  surrendered."  He  passed  away  at 
three  o'clock.  Then,  having  done  all  I  could 
for  the  other  wounded  man,  I  lay  down  on  the 
floor  by  his  side — between  him  and  the  dead 
soldier — and  snatched  an  hour's  sleep. 

I  arose  again  at  four  with  the  first  rays  of 
dawn,  and  started  out  to  see  if  I  could  find  my 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  107 

hat,  which  I  had  lost  when  I  dashed  into  the 
woods  the  night  before.  I  could  get  along  in 
the  evening  without  it,  as  I  did,  and  felt  no  harm, 
but  I  could  not  go  forth  without  it  under  a  July 
sun.  So,  though  the  chance  of  finding  it  seemed 
very  small,  I  felt  that  I  must  make  the  attempt. 
But  what  was  my  dismay,  as  I  sallied  forth, 
to  discover  that  my  horse,  which  I  had  hitched 
just  outside  the  house,  had  been  stolen  in  the 
night.  Not  to  speak  of  the  bereavement  of 
losing  the  faithful  steed  who  had  carried  me 
through  many  perilous  journeys  and  had  saved 
my  life  in  the  chase  the  night  before,  what  could 
I  do  without  him,  left  as  I  was,  alone  in  the 
enemy's  country,  and  thirty  miles  from  any 
possible  succor?  But  I  could  not  stop  to  ques 
tion;  a  soldier  never  expects  to  know  what  a 
day  will  bring  forth,  and  learns  to  scorn  trifles 
and  to  make  the  best  of  what  does  come.  So, 
weary  as  I  was  after  three  almost  sleepless 
nights,  I  set  out  to  walk  over  the  road  along 
which  I  had  been  pursued,  thinking  I  might 
perhaps  recognize  the  sharp  turn  behind  which 
I  had  escaped  into  the  woods.  I  bound  my 
handkerchief  over  my  head  for  protection  from 
the  morning  damps,  and  as  a  safeguard  I  wound 
a  white  bandage  about  my  waist  and  shoulder, 
like  an  officer's  sash,  in  token  of  my  peaceful 
mission,  and  as  an  extemporized  flag  of  truce 


108     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

to  keep  guerrillas  from  firing  upon  me  without 
warning.  I  soon  found  the  advantage  of  this 
precaution,  for  as  I  was  climbing  a  rather  sharp 
ascent  in  the  road  I  was  startled  with  a  harsh 
challenge  from  behind  the  crest  of  the  hill — 
"Halt!  Who  goes  there?" — and  I  was  immedi 
ately  aware  of  a  seven-shooter  carbine  levelled 
at  me,  and  a  rough-looking  guerrilla  behind  it 
with  his  hand  on  the  trigger.  I  answered  as 
respectfully  as  the  occasion  required,  "A  chap 
lain,  looking  after  the  wounded."  As  I  had 
no  arms,  he  allowed  me  to  advance,  and,  a 
short  parley  persuading  him  of  my  humane 
mission  and  my  peaceable  intent,  he  allowed  me 
to  go  my  way  with  my  simple  parole  of  honor 
that  I  would  give  no  information  that  day  that 
would  harm  Mosby  or  his  men.  I  soon  found 
my  hat  in  the  woods,  and  immediately  returned 
with  fresh  courage  to  my  temporary  hospital; 
and  after  caring  for  the  wounded  soldier,  I  bor 
rowed  a  spade  of  the  farmer  and,  selecting  an 
attractive  spot  under  a  tree  a  little  distance  from 
the  house,  I  began  to  dig  a  grave  for  the  decent 
burial  of  the  body  of  Owen  Fox,  when  to  my 
great  delight  I  saw  my  horse  approaching,  and 
I  said  to  myself,  The  thief  has  heard  that  I  am 
a  non-combatant  and  attending  to  the  wounded, 
and  has  concluded  to  give  me  back  my  horse. 
And  I  laughingly  said  to  the  rider  as  he  ap- 


IN  THE  CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  109 

preached,  "Well!  you've  got  a  good  horse 
there."  But  my  laughter  was  suddenly  changed 
to  heaviness  as  he  replied,  cocking  his  pistol 
and  taking  aim  at  me,  "You're  my  prisoner." 
I  at  once  explained  to  him  my  mission,  and  the 
laws  of  war  that  shielded  chaplains  and  sur 
geons  in  the  discharge  of  their  duties  on  the 
field;  but  he  simply  presented  the  shotted  and 
unanswerable  argument  of  his  well-aimed  pistol, 
and  I  yielded  as  gracefully  as  I  could  to  the 
inevitable.  Still  I  begged  a  few  minutes  to 
finish  the  burial;  but  he  would  not  delay  one 
moment,  and  I  had  to  leave  the  exposed  body, 
and  the  half-made  grave,  and  the  wounded 
soldier  in  the  house.  But  I  charged  the  farmer 
to  care  for  the  living  and  to  bury  the  dead,  and 
begged  of  him  to  go  to  the  scene  of  the  battle 
and  with  my  outfit  do  what  he  could  for  the 
wounded,  and  then  I  started  breakfastless  on  a 
long  and  tedious  tramp.  My  captor,  having 
no  pity  for  the  dying  and  no  consideration  for 
the  dead,  of  course  had  no  compassion  for  me. 
He  made  me  walk  in  front,  he  keeping  his  pistol 
well  in  hand.  My  horse  seemed  to  appreciate 
the  shame  of  seeing  his  master  driven  before 
him,  and  hung  his  head  in  pity.  Hungry  and 
weary  as  I  was,  my  inhuman  driver  urged  me 
forward  mile  after  mile  beneath  the  burning  sun, 
under  the  plea  that  I  must  catch  up  with  those 


1 10     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND  PRISON 

who  had  been  captured  the  night  before  and 
so  had  twelve  hours  the  start  of  me  in  their  sad 
journey  to  prison.  He  wreaked  his  spite  against 
the  Union  cause  by  singing  to  me  Rebel  songs 
and  ballads  in  praise  of  the  various  Confederate 
leaders.  He  expected,  by  bringing  in  an  officer 
as  prisoner,  to  win  favor  and  promotion  with 
Mosby,  and  in  this  he  succeeded.  For  I  find, 
in  an  account  of  this  fight  written  and  published 
by  one  of  Mosby's  aids,  this  entry:  "There  was 
one  act  of  heroism  of  which  I  cannot  refrain 
from  speaking.  It  was  the  conduct  of  young 
Martin  who,  having  his  horse  shot  under  him 
early  in  the  action,  pursued  the  enemy  on  foot, 
and  returned  to  camp  mounted  on  a  fine  horse 
with  one  prisoner."  I  agree  with  the  record 
that  he  was  "mounted  on  a  fine  horse,"  but  if 
it  was  "an  act  of  heroism"  to  steal  that  horse 
from  his  hitch  outside  the  house  on  a  dark 
night,  and  then  to  drive  before  the  muzzle  of  his 
pistol  an  unarmed  chaplain  to  prison,  then  we 
can  only  say  that  among  guerrillas  honors  were 
easy.  This  young  Martin  was  a  typical  free 
booter,  enjoying  the  service  on  account  of  its 
adventure  and  its  opportunity  to  range  freely 
over  a  country  where  every  house  was  open  to 
him,  and  the  young  ladies  doted  upon  him  as  one 
of  their  fearless  defenders.  He  took  pride  in 
stopping  at  the  houses  along  our  way  and  pa- 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  III 

rading  his  captured  horse  and  his  clerical 
plunder.  Although  I  was  so  exhausted  before 
noon  that  I  had  to  drag  myself  along  very 
wearily,  it  was  not,  however,  because  I  was 
not  in  the  lightest  marching  order;  for  every 
now  and  then  something  I  had  about  me  ex 
cited  my  captor's  thieving  propensities,  and  he 
would  demand  it  with  a  gesture  towards  his 
pistol  that  could  not  be  denied.  Thus  I  was 
relieved  in  succession  of  my  watch,  my  gold 
pencil,  my  steel  spurs,  my  knife,  my  money, 
my  photographs  of  friends  at  home,  and  at  last 
he  insisted  on  swapping  hats  with  me.  I  had 
always  prided  myself  on  my  shrewdness  at  a 
bargain,  but  I  must  confess  that  in  this  case 
the  Virginia  chivalry  got  the  better  of  me.  I 
had  now  nothing  left  that  this  highway  robber 
could  take,  except  a  memorial  ring  enclosing 
a  lock  of  the  hair  of  my  college  chum  Capt. 
Thomas  B.  Fox  of  the  Second  Massachusetts 
Infantry,  who  was  fatally  wounded  at  Gettys 
burg.  No  sentiment  of  reverence  for  the 
honored  dead  kept  my  captor  from  coveting 
this  bit  of  gold,  so  useless  to  him,  so  precious  to 
me  (Note  io).  But  he  had  not  the  face  to  take  it 
himself.  About  two  o'clock  he  stopped  to  dine 
at  a  farmhouse,  and  while  he  was  inside,  the 
farmer  was  instructed  to  guard  me  and  to  take 
from  me  the  ring.  Two  small  biscuits  were 


112     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND  PRISON 

allowed  me  here  and  they  were  the  only  food  I 
tasted  that  day.  Fortunately  for  me  there  were 
many  running  brooks  in  the  country  through 
which  I  walked,  and  at  every  one  of  them  I 
stretched  myself  prone  upon  the  ground  and 
drank  my  fill.  There  were  yet  ten  more  weary 
miles  to  travel  before  we  should  reach  Rector- 
town,  but  I  accomplished  it  by  nine  o'clock. 
The  latter  part  of  the  way  I  was  very  much 
exhausted,  and  once  I  felt  that  I  could  go  no 
farther.  My  captor,  feeling  the  importance  to 
himself  of  getting  to  camp  and  a  comfortable 
bed,  dismounted  and  assisted  me  upon  Jaques, 
my  old-time  pet,  and  let  me  ride — on  pain  of 
instant  death  if  I  attempted  to  escape.  My 
horse  cheered  up  with  his  accustomed  rider, 
and  walked  with  fresh  life,  but  only  for  a  few 
minutes.  Young  Martin  quickly  concluded 
that  the  risk  of  losing  his  prisoner  was  too 
great,  and  making  an  excuse  that  his  boots 
pinched,  he  made  me  dismount,  and  let  me 
cling  to  the  stirrup-strap;  and  so  I  dragged 
myself  along  the  rest  of  the  way. 

Reaching  Rectortown,  I  was  locked  up  in 
a  room  in  Mosby's  headquarters,  with  only 
the  bare  floor  to  sleep  upon.  But  I  was  tired 
enough  to  sleep  standing,  and  I  knew  nothing 
till  I  was  awakened  in  the  early  morning  by 
Mosby's  adjutant,  and  lectured  upon  the  sin 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  113 

of  invading  the  South  and  committing  sacrilege 
upon  the  sacred  soil  of  Virginia.  I  did  not 
care  to  argue  with  him,  but  asked  if  I  might 
not  see  Colonel  Mosby,  for  whom  I  had  some 
respect,  and  who,  I  believed,  would  send  me 
back  to  the  care  of  the  wounded  on  the  field 
of  our  defeat.  But  the  Adjutant,  swollen  with 
his  little  brief  authority,  haughtily  answered: 
"No!  You're  a  damned  abolitionist  preacher, 
and  you've  got  to  suffer  for  it."  This  honor 
able  impeachment  was  not  exactly  deserved; 
for  though  I  respected  the  abolitionists  in 
dividually  I  did  not  approve  of  their  radical 
methods,  and  of  course  had  never  preached 
their  doctrines.  Still  I  hated  slavery  and  was 
not  unwilling  to  bear  my  part  in  expiating, 
even  vicariously,  the  offence  of  my  native  State 
in  leading  towards  its  overthrow.  The  Adju 
tant  then  sent  me  out  with  one  of  his  men 
into  a  field  to  catch  a  mule,  as  I  must  be 
mounted  to  overtake  the  other  prisoners  who 
were  now  several  miles  ahead  on  their  way  to 
Lynchburg.  These  mules  in  the  field  were  the 
exhausted  animals  from  the  service  and  put 
out  to  pasture  to  recruit.  They  were  mere 
skeletons,  and  to  mount  one  was  like  riding  a 
rail.  Still  I  was  compelled  to  ride  bareback; 
and  a  fresh  guard,  mounted  on  a  fresh  horse, 
took  my  mule's  bridle  rein  and  led  him  for- 


114     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

ward  as  fast  as  he  could  be  induced  to  go. 
This  ride  of  fifteen  miles  was  harder — if  possible 
— than  the  thirty  miles'  walk  of  the  previous 
day.  Every  added  mile  made  the  mule  more 
excruciatingly  thin.  I  was  almost  cut  in  twain, 
and  as  I  came  into  camp  where  the  other 
prisoners  were  resting  at  noon,  the  spectacle  I 
presented  should  have  drawn  tears,  but  instead 
they  all  set  up  a  great  shout  of  laughter  and 
cheers — of  laughter  at  the  irresistibly  ludicrous 
sight  of  their  chaplain  balancing  himself  on  his 
hands  lest  he  should  be  bisected  by  the  back 
bone  of  a  broken-down  mule,  and  of  cheers 
because  they  were  so  glad  to  have  unexpected 
companionship  in  their  misery.  The  prisoners 
numbered  fifty-five — Major  Forbes,  Lieutenant 
Amory,  Lieutenant  Burns,  and  myself,  with 
fifty-one  privates.  I  at  once  took  all  their 
names,  so  that  if  we  were  separated  and  I 
should  first  be  released,  I  might  inform  their 
friends  of  their  fate.  As  it  was,  our  families  did 
not  know  whether  we  were  killed,  wounded,  or 
prisoners. 

We  camped  that  night  in  an  open  field 
chosen  so  that  a  few  guards  only  would  be 
required  to  pace  their  beats  through  the  night 
and  keep  any  of  us  from  running  away.  We 
had  no  bed  but  the  ground,  no  covering  but 
the  sky.  The  stars  were  more  companionable 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  115 

than  our  guards,  and  for  me  a  few  chosen  con 
stellations  had  happy  messages  of  love  from 
dear  ones  at  home,  who  had  promised  to  think 
of  me  every  night  they  could  be  seen.  There 
was  need  of  this  bread  of  heaven  to  sustain  our 
hearts,  for  we  had  little  food  for  any  other 
hunger.  The  day  before,  I  had — as  I  have 
said — two  small  biscuits.  This  day  we  had  a 
little  flour  foraged  from  a  mill  near  by  where 
we  camped  for  the  night.  We  mixed  the  flour 
with  water  from  the  stream,  and  baked  it 
over  extemporized  wood-fires;  but  it  was  very 
tough  and,  without  salt,  rather  tasteless. 

Next  morning  we  started  again  at  four 
o'clock  without  breakfast,  and  walked  all  day, 
with  a  short  rest  at  noon,  when  our  guards 
fed  on  the  fat  of  the  land,  and  each  of  us  had  a 
small  piece  of  dry  bread.  At  nine  o'clock  we 
went  supperless  to  bed  in  an  open  field. 

Next  day  was  Sunday,  and  we  started,  with 
out  breakfast,  at  half-past  three,  and  got  noth 
ing  to  eat  till  we  reached  Orange  Court  House 
at  noon.  Thus  I  had  gone  seventy  miles  in 
three  and  a  half  days,  having  had  only  three 
meals,  and  they  consisted,  all  told,  only  of  two 
biscuits,  a  small  cake  of  flour  and  water,  and  a 
small  piece  of  dry  bread.  At  Orange  Court 
House  we  were  fed  on  cold  corncake  and  un 
cooked  pork,  and  then  put  into  box  cars  and 


Il6     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND  PRISON 

transported  to  Gordonsville.  These  cars  had 
been  used  for  carrying  cattle  and  had  not  been 
cleaned,  nor  would  the  guards  let  us  clean  them; 
and  at  night  we  were  herded  together  in  a 
cattle-yard,  and  had  to  sleep  upon  the  ground 
noisome  with  filth.  Here  we  were  kept  till 
noon  the  next  day,  when  we  were  huddled  again 
into  box  cars  and  had  a  journey  of  seven  hours 
to  Lynchburg,  where  we  were  confined  in  a 
large  tobacco-warehouse  already  in  use  as  a 
prison.  It  had  three  floors,  covered  with  dirt 
and  vermin,  and  six  hundred  and  fifty  Union 
soldiers — of  whom  two  hundred  were  wounded 
and  without  medical  attendance,  their  wounds 
festering  with  gangrene  from  exhaustion  and 
neglect.  The  upper  story  was  a  mere  attic, 
and  as  it  was  very  shallow  and  covered  with  a 
tin  roof,  it  was  too  hot  to  be  habitable  in  the 
daytime.  So,  as  all  the  rest  of  the  floor-space 
was  crowded,  those  who  slept  on  the  upper  floor 
at  night  had  no  refuge  in  the  daytime  but  to 
stand  or  lie  on  the  ground  in  the  prison-yard 
under  the  direct  rays  of  the  summer  sun.  We, 
the  officers,  had  an  extra  guard  and  were  shut 
into  a  little  side-room  about  twelve  feet  square 
and  as  filthy  as  the  rest.  In  this,  eighteen  of 
us  were  to  try  to  live  we  knew  not  how  long. 

I  gave  myself,  at  once,  to  efforts  to  relieve 
the  sick  and  the  wounded.     Their  first  neces- 


IN  THE  CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  117 

sity  was  fitting  food  but  there  was  no  hope  of 
getting  that.  I  thought,  however,  that  I 
might  get  a  few  simple  medicines  and  proper 
bandages;  and  so  I  wrote  a  note  describing  the 
pitiable  condition  of  the  wounded,  and  I  was 
permitted  by  one  of  the  guards  to  send  it  by 
the  hand  of  a  friendly  negro  to  the  chief  steward 
of  College  Hospital,  where,  a  few  rods  away 
from  our  prison,  the  Confederate  wounded  and 
sick  were  treated.  The  only  answer  I  received 
was  this  verbal  message — "You  shall  have 
nothing.  We  must  get  rid  of  the  Yankees  in 
one  way  or  another."  All  we  could  then  do 
was  to  take  for  bandages  pieces  of  worn-out 
clothing  that  the  negroes  smuggled  in  for  us, 
and  to  keep  the  wounds  as  clean  as  we  could 
by  frequent  washings  in  water.  But  without 
sufficient  food  and  with  no  stimulants,  the 
mortality  was  frightful,  and  the  dead-cart 
trundled  heavily  with  its  daily  holocaust  of 
victims  on  the  altar  of  Confederate  cruelty. 
No  words  can  adequately  describe  the  horrors 
of  that  prison  life.  There  seemed  to  be  a 
studied  effort  to  annoy  us  by  withholding  the 
thousand  little  comforts  and  conveniences  that 
could  easily  have  been  given,  and  there  was 
evident  a  deliberate  plan  to  undermine  our 
health  by  close  confinement  and  insufficient 
food.  The  floor  upon  which  we  lay  was  not 


Il8     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

fit  for  cattle,  and  the  meat  that  was  served  to 
us,  a  decent  dog  would  refuse.  No  letters  or 
comforts  from  home  were  allowed  us,  though 
our  friends  were  continually  sending  them 
under  promise  of  safe  delivery  by  the  Confed 
erates.  But  the  keenest  torture  was  provided 
for  us  in  the  deception  practised  in  giving  us 
the  news  from  the  armies  in  the  field.  It  was 
well  understood  that  if  we  lost  heart  and  hope, 
we  should  be  sure  to  lose  health  and  strength. 
At  this  time  we  were  told  that  Early  had  cap 
tured  Washington  and  that  the  Confederacy 
was  about  to  be  acknowledged.  And  yet  the 
truth  was  that  Early  was  then  skedaddling 
away  from  Washington  as  fast  as  he  could— 
barely  saving  the  booty  he  had  gathered  in  his 
hasty  raid  into  Maryland. 

In  Lynchburg  one  of  my  messmates,  Lieut. 
C.  W.  Amory,  who  had  been  wounded  before 
he  was  taken  prisoner,  began  to  show  signs  of 
failing  strength,  and  his  troubles  were  aggra 
vated  by  the  coarse  and  unpalatable  food.  It 
seemed  necessary  that  he  should  have  white 
bread  in  place  of  the  irritating  corn  meal. 
The  only  way  to  get  the  white  bread  was  to 
buy  it  of  the  Confederates.  But  all  our  money 
had  been  filched  from  us  by  our  captors.  I 
managed,  however,  to  get  some  by  trading 
off  my  top-boots  for  a  pair  of  shoes,  and  the 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  119 

Officer  of  the  Guard,  who  was  mounted,  and 
to  whom  cavalry  boots  would  be  a  great  luxury, 
allowed  me  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  for 
the  difference.  As  the  market  value  of  shoes 
in  Lynchburg  at  that  time  was  three  hundred 
and  twenty-five  dollars,  this  transaction  showed 
that  my  boots,  which  cost  me  nine  dollars  in 
greenbacks,  were  worth  five  hundred  and 
seventy-five  dollars  in  Confederate  currency. 
The  prices  of  even  the  commonest  articles  were 
equally  magnified  in  that  paradise  of  inflation. 
Matches  were  seventy-five  cents  a  paper.  Bis 
cuits  were  three  for  one  dollar.  Pies  were  two 
dollars  apiece.  Onions  were  three  for  one 
dollar.  Tomatoes  were  ten  dollars  a  dozen. 
Milk  was  two  dollars  a  quart.  Writing-paper 
was  fifty  cents  a  sheet.  I  was  told  that  board 
in  Lynchburg  was  thirty  dollars  a  day.  So 
it  was  essential  to  use  great  economy  with  my 
two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  to  make  them 
provide  white  bread  for  any  length  of  time  for 
my  sick  messmate.  Our  regular  daily  ration 
was  one  corn-cake  baked  as  hard  as  a  stone 
and  weighing  about  half  a  pound.  With  this 
was  frequently  served  one-third  of  a  pound  of 
pork,  which  I  could  never  eat,  as  it  was  always 
rusty  and  usually  rotten. 

We  had  been  in  this  prison  six  weary  days 
when  Sunday  brought  round  its  usual  reminder 


120     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

of  rest,  and  home,  and  church  bells,  and  happy 
gatherings  about  public  altars  and  domestic 
hearths.  But  this  only  made  their  own  present 
misery  the  more  intolerable  to  many,  though 
in  my  own  little  mess  of  three  it  brightened  our 
hopes  to  think  of  loved  ones  at  home  who  would 
not  forget  us,  and  to  picture  to  ourselves  their 
gathering  to  worship  a  God  of  truth  who  would 
see  that  our  cause  should  triumph;  and  we 
sung  happily  together  the  songs  of  church  and 
home.  It  was  not  long,  however,  before  a 
delegation  from  the  several  floors  of  the  prison 
came  and  asked  me  if  I  would  not  hold  a  service 
on  the  middle  floor  so  that  all  might  join.  Of 
course,  I  could  not  refuse,  though  I  doubted  if 
I  would  be  permitted  to  speak  thus  openly  my 
convictions. 

At  three  o'clock  we  began  the  service,  and  I 
repeated  the  touching  lament  of  the  Hebrew 
captives,  "By  the  rivers  of  Babylon,  there  we 
sat  down,  yea,  we  wept,  when  we  remembered 
Zion,"  and  after  speaking  of  the  comfort  of 
the  faith  that  our  God  is  to  be  worshipped  in 
every  place,  in  captivity  as  well  as  when  we 
breathed  the  free  air  of  home,  I  dwelt  on  the 
beauty  of  the  Hebrew's  devotion,  "If  I  forget 
thee,  O  Jerusalem,  let  my  right  hand  forget 
her  cunning,"  and  emphasized  the  duty  of  re 
membering  still  our  country's  cause  and  serving 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  1 21 

it  by  patient  endurance  of  our  sufferings — as 
"they  sometimes  serve  who  only  stand  and 
wait."  Then  I  closed  with  the  expression  of 
my  deep  conviction  that  the  cause  of  the  Union 
must  triumph.  We  then  all  joined  in  singing 
"America."  The  only  hymn-book  that  I  could 
get  had  the  usual  words,  except  that  the  line 
"Land  of  the  Pilgrims'  pride"  read  "Land  of 
the  Southron's  pride."  But  we  sang  it  in  the 
old  way,  only  with  a  new  kindling  of  devotion. 
I  trembled  a  little,  after  the  service,  to  find 
that  the  Officer  of  the  Guard  and  a  number  of 
his  Rebel  friends  had  been  listening  to  all  I 
had  said;  and  I  was  not,  therefore,  greatly  sur 
prised,  after  I  had  lain  down  to  sleep  that  night, 
to  be  summoned  by  the  Provost  Marshal  of  the 
city  and  to  be  sent  to  the  guard-house.  This 
was  the  attic  of  a  small  building,  up  two  flights 
of  very  narrow  stairs  that  at  the  bottom  opened 
into  a  small  yard  shut  in  by  a  very  high  fence. 
At  the  top  of  the  stairs  stood  an  armed  guard 
at  the  door  of  the  room  in  which  I  was  confined 
with  fifty  others  who  for  various  reasons  had 
incurred  the  Confederate  displeasure.  The 
room  was  very  low,  and  its  superficial  area  was 
about  twelve  feet  by  thirty.  At  one  end  there 
were  two  small  openings  where  had  been  glass, 
now  fortunately  broken.  Scarcely  enough  air 
filtered  through  to  keep  us  alive,  and  what  did 


122     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

get  in  was  poisoned  for  us  by  a  tub  of  filth  at 
the  other  end  of  the  room.  We  begged  to  be 
allowed  to  remove  this  nuisance,  but  the  guard 
was  under  orders  not  to  permit  it  nor  to  let  any 
one  leave  the  room.  Of  course  we  could  not 
sleep — the  air  was  too  noisome  and  stifling. 
The  next  morning — to  add  to  our  misery  be 
sides  heaping  upon  us  the  grossest  insult — forty 
tattered  and  dirty  deserters  from  the  Rebel 
army  and  a  score  of  felons  condemned  and 
awaiting  sentence  were  crowded  in  with  us, 
and  their  horrid  oaths  and  vile  songs  added  a 
fiendish  element  to  our  tortures.  Full  daylight 
did  not  perceptibly  relieve  the  gloom  of  our 
dungeon;  only  enough  rays  crept  in  to  make 
the  darkness  visible;  but  the  Southern  sun 
shot  its  heat  rays  freely  through  the  roof,  and 
made  the  steaming  air  more  noxious  and  repul 
sive.  A  few  pieces  of  sour  bread  and  rotten  pork 
were  passed  in  on  a  tray,  but  we  could  not 
eat.  Headache  and  lassitude  and  the  prisoners' 
scourge — diarrhoea — so  reduced  our  vitality 
that  all  appetite  was  gone,  and  the  stomach 
revolted  from  food.  The  second  night — with 
the  added  number  of  prisoners — there  was 
not  room  for  all  of  us  to  stretch  upon  the  floor 
to  sleep,  and  I  spent  all  night  sitting  with  my 
back  to  the  wall  and  hugging  my  knees.  A 
second  dreadful  day — a  little  relieved  by  being 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  123 

allowed  to  abate  the  nuisance  in  our  room 
and  to  go  in  turn  for  a  few  minutes  into 
the  open  yard  below — and  then  a  third  awful 
night  with  no  relief  even  of  sleep,  and  the 
cheerful  summons  came  to  start  for  Georgia. 
Anything  was  better  than  that  living  death, 
under  whose  tortures  flesh  and  heart  must 
soon  have  failed.  I  do  not  believe  we  could 
have  lived  there  a  week.  So  we  cheerfully 
took  up  our  journey,  although  it  was  to  be 
"away  down  South  in  Dixie,"  and  farther 
removed  from  home  and  from  the  probability 
of  Joeing  released. 

'We  were  packed  in  box  cars,  fifty  or  more  in 
each,  and  each  man  was  given  a  ration  of  three 
pieces  of  hard  bread  which  had  to  last  us  till 
we  reached  Danville  at  three  o'clock  the  next 
morning.  In  the  car  in  which  I  was  placed, 
we  were  so  crowded  that  we  could  not  all  lie 
down  at  once,  and  it  was  arranged  that  we 
should  take  turns  at  stretching  out  on  the  floor; 
but  when  it  came  my  turn  to  lie  down,  I 
had  not  the  heart  to  awaken  my  messmates, 
and  I  stood  all  night  clinging  to  the  iron  rod 
that  served  as  a  brace  at  the  end  of  the  car. 
But  this  sleepless  vigil  was  ten  times  more 
endurable  than  the  guard-house  in  Lynchburg, 
whose  horrors  have  never  been  exceeded  save 
by  those  in  the  Black  Hole  of  Calcutta,  and 


124     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

they  were  endured  by  the  British  garrison  only 
for  a  single  night. 

In  Danville,  the  abundance  of  cow-beans 
fed  to  us  in  a  half-cooked  soup  was  even  more 
to  be  dreaded  than  the  starvation  rations  of 
corn-meal  that  had  hitherto  been  doled  out 
to  us.  The  soup,  being  palatable,  checked  the 
pangs  of  hunger,  but  the  beans  in  it,  being 
tough  and  indigestible,  made  us  all  sick,  and 
only  aggravated  our  misery.  It  was  in  Dan 
ville  that  I  witnessed  for  the  first  time  the  reck 
less  shooting  of  prisoners  in  their  confinement. 
We  were  penned  up  in  a  large  tobacco  ware 
house,  and  one  of  our  men,  happening  to  look 
out  of  a  second-story  window,  received  a  shot 
in  the  head  from  the  guard  below.  In  this 
case  there  was  no  possible  excuse  in  an  at 
tempted  escape,  as  was  urged  when  afterwards 
shooting  became  common  along  the  dead-lines 
of  the  Georgia  prison-pens.  Here  it  was  simple 
recklessness  on  the  part  of  the  Confederates 
as  to  the  lives  of  their  prisoners. 

We  were  in  Danville  less  than  twenty-four 
hours,  and  were  awakened  at  two  o'clock 
Sunday  morning  and  packed  into  filthy  cattle- 
cars  as  before  and  transported  across  the 
State  of  North  Carolina  by  way  of  Greensboro, 
Lexington,  and  Salisbury.  In  this  trip  there 
were  only  thirty-one  in  our  car,  and  by  spooning 


IN  THE  CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  125 

we  could  all  lie  down,  though  to  turn  over 
necessitated  a  concerted  movement.  I  could 
not  sleep,  as  I  was  near  the  side  door  of  the 
car,  which  was  partly  opened  and  admitted 
a  great  draft  and  with  it  great  quantities 
of  cinders  from  the  wood-burning  locomotive, 
and  I  several  times  found  my  clothing  on 
fire.  As  that  clothing  was  scanty  at  the 
best,  it  was  rather  essential  to  keep  awake  to 
protect  it. 

We  reached  Charlotte  two  hours  after  mid 
night,  when  we  were  turned  out  into  an  open 
field,  where,  huddled  together  like  sheep,  it 
required  but  three  or  four  sentinels  to  guard 
us  while  we  slept  on  the  ground  till  morning. 
Then  we  each  received  five  hardbreads  and  one- 
third  of  a  pound  of  pork  for  two  days'  rations, 
and  were  packed  into  the  cars  again  and  given 
a  free  ride  through  South  Carolina.  It  did 
not  help  to  appease  our  hunger  to  have  the 
beauty  and  chivalry  of  the  State  appear  as 
they  did  at  every  prominent  station,  with 
elegant  and  abundant  refreshment  for  the 
guards  of  our  train,  but  not  one  morsel  for  the 
starving  prisoners.  Yes!  one  morsel  did  get 
into  the  mouth  of  one  of  our  men  who,  more 
desperate  than  the  rest,  snatched  it  from  the 
bountiful  supply  that  was  being  passed  to  our 
guard,  but  the  rest  of  us  had  too  much  self" 


126     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND  PRISON 

respect  to  resort  to  robbery,  even  though  we 
felt  that  our  rations  were  unreasonably  slender. 
Our  oppressors  had  not  the  justification  of 
poverty, — in  their  supplies  of  corn  at  least, — 
for  as  we  travelled  through  their  country  we 
could  see  that  the  fields,  which  before  the  war 
had  yielded  their  rich  tribute  to  King  Cotton, 
now  waved  with  abundant  corn.  But  they 
were  planted  for  other  mouths  than  ours, 
and  their  tasselled  tops  only  waved  in  mockery 
as  we  passed. 

After  stopping  a  few  hours  at  Columbia,  we 
started  again,  and  travelled  a  day  and  a  night 
till  by  way  of  Orangeburg  we  reached  Augusta, 
where  we  encamped  in  an  open  field  for  ten 
hours.  Here  some  of  us  clubbed  together  and 
invested  in  a  watermelon,  but  we  were  so  weak 
and  exhausted  that  it  made  us  all  sick. 

Then  another  day  and  night  in  box  cars, 
tightly  shut  on  one  side,  and  the  guard  stand 
ing  in  the  crack  of  the  door  on  the  other  side, 
so  that  the  air  was  stifling  and  the  heat  very 
oppressive,  and  we  arrived  at  Macon.  It  had 
taken  us  six  weary  days  and  nights  from  Lynch- 
burg  over  very  rough  roads  that  compelled  a 
very  slow  and  jerky  motion  of  the  trains  and 
caused  great  discomfort  to  us  their  live  freight. 
Sleep  under  such  circumstances  was  always 
difficult,  and  never  unbroken  for  any  length 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  127 

of  time.  A  few,  driven  to  desperation,  escaped 
from  the  train,  but  most  of  us  thought  it  wiser 
to  endure  our  confinement  than  to  take  the  risk 
of  hundreds  of  miles  of  walking  through  the 
enemy's  country  beset  with  watchful  sentries 
and  savage  bloodhounds. 

At  Macon  all  officers  were  taken  from  the 
train,  while  the  privates  were  carried  on  farther, 
about  sixty  miles,  to  Andersonville.  Hence 
forth  I  lost  sight  and  trace  of  them,  and  I  have 
never  learned  whether  any  of  those  from  my 
regiment  survived  the  hardships  of  that  fright 
ful  prison.  Our  own  fate  was  only  a  shade  more 
endurable.  At  Macon  we  were  herded  in  a 
large  pen,  Camp  Oglethorpe,  with  about  six 
teen  hundred  other  officers,  surrounded  by  a 
strong  stockade  fifteen  feet  high.  This  en 
closed  space  was  about  sufficient  to  give  each 
prisoner  room  enough  for  a  grave.  Indeed  it 
looked  much  like  a  cemetery;  for,  in  order  to 
escape  from  the  terribly  intense  heat  of  the 
midsummer  sun,  many  had  dug  narrow  trenches 
in  which  to  lie  down  and  so  get  a  little  shade. 
On  the  outside  of  our  prison-stockade,  and  sup 
ported  by  brackets,  was  a  shelf  upon  which  the 
armed  sentinels  paced  back  and  forth,  their 
heads  and  shoulders  just  visible  to  us.  Around 
the  inside  of  the  enclosure  and  about  five 
yards  from  the  stockade,  was  a  rude  railing 


128     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND  PRISON 

which  constituted  the  dead-line,  beyond  which 
the  prisoners  were  forbidden  to  pass,  on 
penalty  of  death.  The  only  water  for  wash 
ing  and  drinking  was  furnished  by  a  small 
and  rather  stagnant  brook  running  through 
the  enclosure.  Of  course,  it  received  all  the 
drainage  from  the  prison-pen,  and  generally  it 
was  so  sluggish  that  any  washing  in  it  seemed 
to  vitiate  the  water  up  as  well  as  down  stream. 
It  was  never  fit  to  drink,  but  I  always  got  the 
supply  for  our  mess  in  the  very  early  morn 
ing  before  it  had  been  disturbed,  and  when  it 
was  less  offensive  than  later  in  the  day.  Our 
rations  here  were  nominally  issued  every  three 
days,  and  consisted  of  three  pints  of  corn  meal 
("cob  meal,"  the  prisoners  called  it),  one-half  a 
pound  of  pork,  one  gill  of  beans,  with  a  little 
vinegar  and  salt.  But  there  were  very  vexa 
tious  delays  in  giving  out  the  rations,  so  that 
out  of  this  very  scanty  supply  we  lost  two  days' 
rations  in  every  ten.  Even  this  faint  remnant 
of  nutrition  must  be  still  farther  reduced  by 
extracting  from  each  pint  of  corn  meal  the  cob 
that  was  ground  with  it.  At  least  this  was 
our  explanation  of  its  coarseness;  for  when  we 
sifted  it  for  cooking,  the  quantity  was  reduced 
a  full  third.  So  far  as  the  ration  of  pork  was 
concerned,  I  never  could  eat  it,  but  found  it 
useful  in  greasing  the  pan  in  which  I  cooked 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  129 

the  corn  cake.  Our  mess-pan — which  was  more 
precious  to  us  than  gold,  and  which  I  carried 
with  me  nine  hundred  miles  through  the  Con 
federacy — was  the  iron  part  of  a  broken  shovel 
which  I  had  picked  up  in  Virginia.  It  was  very 
convenient  to  hold  over  the  fire  while  the  cake 
was  baking.  I  will  confess  here  for  the  en 
couragement  of  young  housekeepers  that  with 
all  the  care  I  could  give  I  burned  several  cakes, 
but  I  trust  they  will  not  have  to  suffer  for  it 
as  I  did  and  go  hungry  until  the  next  rations 
were  issued. 

Even  though  we  were  now  in  the  heart  of 
Georgia,  we  were  not  considered  secure  from 
Sherman's  cavalry  raiders.  For  they  were 
only  eighty  miles  away  at  Atlanta,  and  one 
day  we  heard  the  carbines  of  his  cavalry  com 
ing  to  attempt  our  release.  They  were  driven 
back,  however,  and  their  commander,  General 
Stoneman,  and  a  number  of  his  officers  were 
captured  and  sent  to  our  prison.  Imagine  the 
keenness  of  our  anxious  expectation  as  we 
heard  the  shots  of  our  would-be  deliverers,  and 
think  of  the  sinking  of  our  hearts  when  their 
efforts  were  frustrated  by  defeat. 

These  fresh  prisoners  smuggled  in  a  little 
coffee  concealed  in  their  clothing.  Our  mess 
secured  a  teaspoonful,  and  though  it  was  a 
small  quantity  to  be  divided  among  three,  yet 


130     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND  PRISON 

in  the  depressed  state  of  our  vitality  it  was 
like  a  rich  cordial,  and  sent  a  delightful  exhila 
ration  through  our  frames.  But  it  was  only 
temporary,  and  resembled  more  the  hectic  flush 
of  consumption;  for  it  was  followed  by  a  fear 
ful  depression,  which  seemed  as  if  it  must 
shortly  end  in  death. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  the  Inspector  General 
of  Confederate  Prisons  reported  officially  from 
Georgia  to  Jefferson  Davis  in  these  words: 
"My  duty  requires  me  respectfully  to  recom 
mend  that  you  put  in  command  here  some  one 
who  has  some  feeling  of  humanity  and  con 
sideration  for  the  comfort  of  the  prisoners, 
some  one — at  least — who  will  not  advocate  de 
liberately  and  in  cold  blood — as  the  Com 
mandant  General  Winder  has  done — the  pro 
priety  of  leaving  them  in  their  present  condition 
until  their  number  has  been  sufficiently  re 
duced  by  death  to  make  their  present  accom 
modations  ample,  and  who  will  not  consider  it 
a  matter  of  self-laudation  and  boasting  that 
he  has  never  been  inside  the  stockade — a  place 
the  horrors  of  which  it  is  difficult  to  describe, 
and  which  is  a  disgrace  to  civilization."  This 
was  said,  by  Col.  T.  D.  Chandler,  particularly 
of  Andersonville,  but  every  word  of  it  was  true 
of  Macon,  and  there  could  be  no  more  damning 
record  than  this  which  has  been  written  by  a 


IN  THE  CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865          131 

friend  and  high  officer  of  the  Confederate 
government. 

And  yet  this  appeal  of  the  Inspector  General 
was  utterly  disregarded,  and  these  cruelties, 
unabated,  made  the  darkest  blot  on  the  escutch 
eon  of  Southern  chivalry.  President  Lin 
coln  could  hardly  persuade  himself  that  the 
facts  were  as  reported,  and  said  with  unutter 
able  sadness:  "Let  us  not  believe  them  till  we 
must.  Let  us  hope,  at  Jeast,  that  the  crime  of 
murdering  prisoners  by  exposure  and  starva 
tion  may  not  be  fastened  on  any  of  our  people." 
Such  crimes  could  only  be  possible  to  men  de 
based  by  long  years  of  familiarity  with  the 
cruelties  of  human  slavery,  and  though  we  ntust 
forgive  and  should  look  in  pity  more  than 
anger  on  those  who  were  dehumanized  by  the 
institution  under  which  they  were  nourished, 
we  cannot  forget  the  fearful  price  paid  for  its 
extinction  not  only  in  blood  on  the  fields  of 
battle  but  in  exposure  and  starvation  within 
the  prison-pens  of  the  South.  Heaven  save  us 
from  harboring  again  in  our  social  or  political 
system  any  such  cruel  injustice. 

We  remained  in  the  prison  at  Macon  two 
weeks,  exposed  each  day  to  the  festering  rays 
of  the  Southern  sun,  with  no  variation  in  the 
monotony  of  suffering,  except  that  we  were 
several  times  hastily  loaded  upon  the  cars  in 


132     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND  PRISON 

anticipation  of  our  attempted  release  by  Sher 
man.  But  each  time  we  were  sadly  and  sul 
lenly  driven  back  to  our  pen.  In  this  exhaust 
ing  life  men  soon  became  living  skeletons,  and 
the  monotony  of  frequent  death  was  never  re 
lieved.  What  wounds  and  exposure  and  sickness 
did  not  do,  starvation  accomplished,  and  the  line 
of  stretcher-bearers  to  the  grave  never  ceased 
to  pass  the  gates. 

At  last  the  order  came  to  leave  this  grave 
yard  of  loyal  legions — a  place  which  might  fitly 
be  called  "the  devil's  acre" — and  to  get  upon 
the  cars  again  and  be  transported  to  Charles 
ton  to  be  put  under  the  fire  of  the  Union  guns. 
This  was  a  last  desperate  move  planned  and 
executed  by  Maj.  Gen.  Samuel  Jones,  then  in 
command  at  Charleston.  He  notified  the  Union 
Commander,  Major  General  Foster,  saying,  "  I 
have  confined  six  hundred  of  your  officers  in  a 
part  of  the  city  which  has  been  for  many 
months  exposed  day  and  night  to  the  fire  of 
your  guns."  Of  course  the  object  was  to  com 
pel  our  government  to  exchange  prisoners  with 
the  Confederates,  a  thing  which  Secretary 
Stanton  was  constantly  urging  President  Lin 
coln  not  to  do,  on  the  plea  of  military  necessity, 
as  it  would  be  exchanging  well-fed  Confederate 
prisoners  for  ill-fed  Union  prisoners,  and  would 
be  immediately  reinforcing  the  Rebel  armies, 


IN  THE  CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  133 

while  it  would  be  two  months  at  least  before 
any  Union  prisoner  would  be  strong  enough  to 
rejoin  his  command,  and  it  was  doubtful  if 
half  of  those  released  would  ever  be  able  to  fight 
again.  Lincoln  frequently  followed  his  heart's 
impulses,  and  asked  the  Commissioners  of  Ex 
change  to  get  particular  persons  released;  but 
Stanton  was  inflexible  in  his  adherence  to  his 
principle  that  in  dealing  with  this  question, 
something  should  not  be  given  for  nothing,  that 
a  hundred  thousand  soldiers  ready  for  battle 
against  the  Union  should  not  be  given  for  a 
hundred  thousand  debilitated  Union  men  ready 
only  for  the  hospital  or  the  grave. 

Our  part  in  this  arrangement  was  not  the 
pleasantest.  Yet  when  I  knew  that  we  were 
leaving  Macon  to  be  made  to  endure  the  last 
touch  of  cruelty  by  a  more  dangerous  exposure 
to  death,  I  was  really  glad  of  the  change;  for 
I  felt  that  I  could  keep  up  a  livelier  courage  if 
I  were  within  hearing  of  the  guns  that  were 
hammering  away  at  the  gates  of  the  Confeder 
acy.  And  it  was  so.  When  after  two  days 
and  nights  in  the  cars,  packed  so  closely  that 
we  could  not  lie  down  to  sleep,  we  came  within 
sound  of  the  Swamp  Angel,  and  heard  its  de 
fiant  thundering  at  the  bulwarks  of  oppression, 
we  felt  a  thrill  of  satisfaction;  for  it  spoke 
most  convincingly  of  the  steadfast  determina- 


134     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND  PRISON 

tion  of  the  Union  forces  to  batter  down  all  the 
defences  of  disloyalty.  This  gun  was  called 
the  "Swamp  Angel"  because  its  foundation 
was  built  in  a  swamp  by  first  driving  long 
stout  piles  into  the  mud  and  then  laying  above 
them  a  great  mound  of  sand-bags.  It  was  a 
2OO-pound  Parrott  and  could  throw  its  great 
shells  into  the  city  of  Charleston,  four  or  five 
miles  away. 

In  Charleston  we  were  confined  in  a  large 
brick  penitentiary,  called  a  "workhouse."  We 
were  first  registered  and  then  searched.  On 
being  asked  how  much  money  I  had,  I  named 
a  sum  just  within  the  permitted  limit,  though  I 
had,  concealed  about  my  person,  quite  a  little 
more.  I  considered  it  absolutely  essential 
to  the  life  of  my  sick  messmate  that  we  should 
have  money  enough  to  buy  wheat  bread  for 
him  in  place  of  the  corn  bread  which  was  issued 
to  us.  I  felt  justified  in  deceiving  those  who 
were  treating  us  so  inhumanly.  I  told  the 
truth,  but  not  the  whole  truth.  I  believe  it 
was  the  nearest  I  ever  came  to  telling  a  lie,  and 
if  Heaven  is  not  willing  to  forgive  it,  I  am  willing 
to  suffer  the  consequences. 

In  our  prison  there  were  about  three  hundred 
officers,  of  all  grades  from  major  generals  down 
to  lieutenants,  scattered  through  the  cells  and 
corridors.  There  were  four  stories  to  the 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  135 

building,  and  as  an  awful  reminder  of  our  dan 
gerous  exposure  there  was  a  gaping  chasm  down 
through  the  roof  and  every  floor,  marking  the 
track  along  which  a  shot  from  one  of  our 
batteries  had  forced  its  way  to  the  cellar. 
The  Swamp  Angel  battery  was  full  five  miles 
away,  and  yet  every  fifteen  minutes  of  my  three 
weeks'  stay  in  this  prison,  a  2OO-pound  shell 
from  its  belching  jaws  burst  over  our  heads. 
About  every  fourth  shell  was  loaded  with 
Greek  fire,  and  at  night  by  its  lighted  fuse  we 
could  see  it  rise  like  a  star  from  the  horizon 
and  ascend  almost  to  mid-heaven,  then  grace 
fully  curve  downwards  and  burst  and  drop  its 
liquid  flame  upon  the  roofs  of  the  city.  Then 
in  a  few  moments  we  would  hear  the  bells  of 
the  fire-alarm,  and  we  could  often  see  the  negro 
fire-brigade  rush  past  our  bars  to  try  to  stay 
the  conflagration  that  almost  inevitably  en 
sued.  The  fate  that  awaited  us  if  our  prison 
caught  fire  was  too  horrible  to  imagine,  and  yet 
the  danger  was  constantly  before  our  eyes. 
At  first  the  mere  sound  of  the  bursting  shells — 
Gilmore's  reports,  as  they  were  called — made 
us  give  a  startled  jump;  but  soon  we  got  used 
to  it,  and  their  terrific  explosion  passed  almost 
unnoticed  in  the  daytime,  and  at  night  scarcely 
disturbed  our  dreams.  Indeed  I  became  so 
wonted  to  this  fierce  marking  of  the  quarter- 


136     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

hours,  that  one  night  when  the  explosion  was, 
for  once  only,  intermitted,  I  was  wakened  by 
the  unexpected  silence,  showing  that  we  keep 
a  kind  of  semi-consciousness  even  in  sleep,  and 
illustrating  how  we  can  rest  amid  the  most 
disturbing  sounds  if  they  are  expected.  In 
the  evening  twilights  we  watched  the  bom 
barding  with  almost  the  heedlessness  of  danger 
that  one  would  look  upon  an  exhibition  of 
fireworks,  and  when  we  gave  ourselves  to  sleep 
it  was  with  a  serene  satisfaction  in  Uncle  Sam's 
sleepless  activity, — 

"For  the  rockets'  red  glare,  the  bombs  bursting  in  air, 
Gave  proof  through  the  night  that   our  flag   was  still 
there." 

About  this  time  General  Foster,  who  had 
command  of  the  Federal  forces  about  Charles 
ton,  sent  the  following  communication  to  the 
Rebel  authorities:  "I  must  protest  against 
your  placing  defenceless  prisoners  of  war  in  a 
position  exposed  to  constant  bombardment. 
It  is  an  indefensible  act  of  cruelty.  The  city 
of  Charleston  is  a  depot  for  military  supplies. 
It  contains  not  only  arsenals  but  foundries  and 
factories  for  the  manufacture  of  munitions  of 
war.  Its  wharves  and  the  banks  of  the  river 
on  both  sides  are  lined  with  hostile  batteries. 
In  its  shipyards  armed  ironclads  have  been 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  137 

built  and  are  building.  To  destroy  these 
means  of  continuing  the  war  is  our  plain  object 
and  duty.  You  seek  to  defeat  this  effort  by 
means  not  known  to  honorable  warfare — 
by  placing  unarmed  and  defenceless  prisoners 
under  fire.  I  have  requested  the  President  to 
place  in  my  custody  an  equal  number  of 
prisoners  of  like  grade,  to  be  kept  by  me  in 
positions  exposed  to  the  fire  of  your  guns — 
so  long  as  you  continue  a  like  course." 

This  request  of  General  Foster's  was  granted 
and  had  the  desired  effect,  but  too  late  to  save 
me  from  the  exposures  of  the  bombardment. 

Jefferson  Davis  in  a  published  letter,  under 
date  of  January  27,  1876,  tries  to  throw  from 
himself  the  suspicion  of  connivance  in  these 
and  like  cruelties  to  prisoners,  by  rehearsing 
his  efforts  to  have  them  exchanged.  Of  course 
he  wanted  them  exchanged.  It  was  at  this 
stage  of  the  war  that  he  said  in  a  speech  at 
Macon:  "We  must  have  more  men.  Two- 
thirds  of  our  enrolled  soldiers  are  absent  and 
most  of  them  without  leave."  Davis  knew  very 
well  that  a  general  exchange  of  prisoners  would 
double  Lee's  army  in  ten  days,  while  it  would 
be  at  least  sixty  days  before  Grant's  army 
would  be  materially  strengthened  from  this 
source.  Some  of  us  also  understood  this,  and 
when  permission  came  to  us  in  Charleston  to 


138     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

choose  delegates  who  would  be  allowed  to  go 
to  Washington  in  order  to  urge  on  Lincoln  the 
exchange  of  prisoners  that  Davis  wanted,  al 
though  the  majority  favored  the  scheme,  and 
I  was  offered  my  freedom  and  asked  to  go  as  a 
delegate,  I  could  not  conscientiously  encourage 
a  plan  that  I  felt  sure  would  not  only  not  suc 
ceed,  but  if  successful  would  damage — perhaps 
irreparably — the  Union  cause. 

These  sentiments  I  expressed  when,  on 
August  28th,  at  the  request  of  General  Stone- 
man,  the  ranking  officer  among  the  prisoners, 
I  held  a  Sunday  service  in  presence  of  all.  A 
more  novel  situation  for  a  service  of  religion 
can  hardly  be  imagined.  For  an  auditorium 
there  was  the  filthy,  noisome,  prison-yard  which 
the  Confederates  would  not  themselves,  nor 
let  us,  keep  clean.  For  seats  there  were  the 
ground  and  the  open  windows  of  the  prison. 
For  a  roof  there  was  only  the  fragment  of  sky 
above  our  heads.  For  an  altar  I  had  a  long 
box  standing  on  end,  and  for  a  platform  a  tub, 
bottom  upwards.  To  mark  the  time,  the 
booming  of  the  Swamp  Angel  battery  tolled  off 
the  quarter-hours  like  the  strokes  of  the  clock 
of  fate.  In  place  of  organ  accompaniment 
there  was  the  terrific  bursting  of  the  death- 
dealing  shells.  For  an  audience  I  had  the  sick 
and  wounded  prisoners,  the  heavy-hearted 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  139 

captives,  the  despairing  victims  of  a  remorse 
less  cruelty.  I  tried  to  inspire  a  fresh  confi 
dence  and  hope  by  expressing  my  conviction 
that  even  then  and  there  we  could  serve  our 
country  and  our  God,  that  though  we  would 
infinitely  prefer  to  be  with  our  brothers  at  the 
front  facing  the  perils  of  the  fight,  Providence 
had  evidently  marked  out  for  us  as  our  only 
present  duty  to  patiently  endure  the  sufferings 
of  our  imprisonment,  and  that  each  one  of 
us  was  thus  doing  more  to  bring  the  war  to  an 
end  than  we  could  by  adding  our  enfeebled 
strength  to  the  armies  of  the  Union,  since 
our  wasted  vitality  would  be  so  much  over 
balanced  by  the  well-fed  recruits  to  the 
Southern  cause. 

It  may  be  said  here  that  this  question  of  duty 
was  not  wholly  a  new  one;  two  hundred  and 
forty-nine  years  before  the  Christian  era,  it 
was  decided  in  the  same  way  by  the  Roman 
Regulus,  who  advised  against  an  exchange 
because,  though  he  himself  was  suffering  the 
horrors  of  a  harsh  imprisonment,  he  felt  that 
his  country  would  be  defrauded  by  the  giving 
up  of  the  Carthaginian  prisoners  strong  and 
well,  and  receiving  back  its  own  captured 
soldiers  worn  out  and  useless  for  any  immediate 
service. 

It  is  perhaps  needless  to  add  that  no  delega- 


140     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

tion  went  from  our  prison.  Yet  in  spite  of  the 
cheering  convictions  that  some  of  us  cherished 
that  we  were  even  then  serving  our  country, 
and  that  by  our  stripes  her  wounds  might  be 
healed,  many — almost  by  a  necessity  of  their 
physical  suffering — lost  all  heart  and  hope. 
Those  who  were  not  already  actuated  by  the 
highest  motives  and  supported  by  the  strong 
est  principles,  withered  like  broken  reeds.  The 
assured  sympathy  of  their  fellows  and  the 
known  love  of  dear  ones  at  home  were  only  an 
added  torture  to  them.  They  lost  their  faith 
in  the  country  for  which  before  they  had  been 
willing  to  risk  their  lives.  They  lost  their 
faith  in  God,  and  forgot  his  ever-present  care. 
They  became  sour  and  sad.  And  the  sadness 
was  the  more  fearful  as  it  was  really  the  pre 
monition  of  death.  For  in  that  loathsome 
prison  to  give  up  cheerfulness  was  to  give  up 
health,  to  give  up  hope  was  to  give  up  life. 
I  have  seen  strong  men  bow  themselves  under 
this  dreadful  shadow  of  hopelessness,  and  one 
especially  I  recall — a  young  captain  from 
Michigan — whose  despair  made  an  old  man  of 
him  in  a  single  week,  changing  his  hair  from 
dark  to  gray,  and  in  three  weeks  he  was  an 
utter  wreck. 

(     As  September  approached  we  had  at  times 
quite  cold  nights,  and,  as  our  slender  clothing 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  141 

was  now  getting  worn  and  thin,  we  suffered 
a  good  deal,  and  our  government,  mindful  of 
our  needs,  had  a  thousand  changes  of  clothing 
which  it  tried  to  get  to  us,  but  the  prison 
authorities  would  not  allow  us  a  thread  of 
warmer  covering. 

wOur  drinking-water  at  Charleston  was  worse, 
if  possible,  than  at  Macon.  Our  prison-yard 
was  very  small;  and  well  and  vault  were  so 
near  together  that  the  water  was  thoroughly 
poisoned  with  filth  and  refuse,  "making  us  by 
inch-meal  a  disease."  This  trial  was  aggra 
vated  for  us  by  the  sight  of  a  public  pump  only 
a  few  rods  away  from  our  prison-gate.  One 
day  I  spoke  through  the  bars  to  the  outside 
guard  and  told  him  that  one  of  my  messmates 
was  sick  and,  I  feared,  dying;  and  would  he 
be  so  kind  as  to  fill  for  me  a  small  pail  with 
pure  water  from  the  pump?  He  sullenly  got 
it  for  me,  but  demanded  fifty  cents.  I  paid  it, 
for  it  might  save  a  life. 

Our  food  in  Charleston  was  better  in  quality 
and  variety  than  in  any  other  prison.  Our 
rations  were  three  pieces  of  hard  bread  a  day, 
or,  in  place  of  it,  a  pint  of  corn  meal.  To 
these  were  sometimes  added  a  little  rice  and 
molasses.  Once  or  twice,  fresh  meat  was 
issued  to  us,  but  pork  was  the  almost  invariable 
accompaniment  of  our  ration.  How  to  cook 


142     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

the  rice  and  meal  was  often  a  puzzle,  as  no 
firewood  was  given  to  us.  I  supplied  this  lack 
by  tearing  off  pieces  of  wood  from  the  parti 
tions  of  the  cells.  I  became  quite  skilful  in 
boiling  rice  in  a  tin  pail  which  I  had  bought. 
I  learned  to  so  graduate  the  quantities  of  water 
and  rice  that,  after  twenty  minutes  of  boiling, 
each  grain  would  be  left  soft  and  yet  retain  its 
form  and  individuality,  which  in  countries 
where  it  is  the  staple  food  is  the  test  of  success 
in  cooking.  In  the  latter  part  of  August  both 
my  messmates,  Forbes  and  Amory,  were  sick, 
and  the  money  of  our  common  purse  was  used 
to  buy  for  them  white  bread,  which  with  flour 
at  one  hundred  dollars  a  barrel  had  to  be  used 
sparingly.  I  fed  them  for  ten  days  on  dry 
toast  and  beef-tea  varied  with  boiled  rice  and 
sometimes  a  little  coffee  and  a  boiled  egg. 
When  my  patients  improved  sufficiently,  I 
celebrated  by  giving  them  a  surprise — breakfast 
of  griddle-cakes,  which  I  made  of  corn-meal, 
rice,  and  flour,  in  equal  parts,  with  one  beaten 
egg.  I  ought  perhaps  to  call  them  shovel- 
cakes  from  the  utensil — the  iron  part  of  a 
shovel — on  which  they  were  cooked.  Spite 
of  the  rough  utensil  the  cakes  were  pronounced 
very  good. 

At  last  the  day  of  my  deliverance  was  at 
hand,  and  the  order  came  that  all  chaplains 


IN  THE  CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  143 

and  surgeons  should  be  released.  It  was  very 
hard  for  me  to  leave  my  two  messmates  in 
exile — especially  as  one  of  them  was  slowly 
wasting  away  under  the  hardships  of  his  prison 
life.  But  I  resolved  to  do  everything  in  my 
power  to  get  him  released,  and,  as  the  only 
thing  I  could  do  for  him  then,  I  stripped  myself 
of  all  my  underclothing  and  left  it  for  him, 
as  he  needed  its  extra  warmth.  I  also,  as  a 
parting  service,  boiled  in  a  great  iron  kettle 
all  the  clothing  of  my  messmates  in  order  to 
clean  it  and  to  kill  out  the  vermin  that  it  was 
our  daily  practice  to  skirmish  for  with  thumb 
and  forefinger.  I  then  scrubbed  the  pieces, 
using  a  window-blind  for  a  washboard.  My 
washing  water  was  so  brackish  that  it  curdled 
the  soap,  and  I  have  since  learned  that  I  re 
versed  the  proper  order  of  washing-day  by 
boiling  before  rinsing.  But  I  rubbed  away  on 
my  thirteen  pieces  for  two  hours  under  a  boiling 
sun,  my  two  messmates  meanwhile  waiting  in 
their  cell  in  the  only  garments  the  Confederates 
could  not  steal. 

As  the  time  came  to  say  farewell  we  sang 
once  more  the  hymn  that  we  had  sung  together 
almost  every  day  of  our  imprisonment,  and 
that  had  done  a  great  deal  to  keep  up  our 
spirits, — the  hymn  called  "God  of  the  father 
less"  to  the  tune  "Day  slowly  declining"  by 


144     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

Von  Weber, — and  then  with  many  a  warm 
embrace,  not  without  tears,  we  parted. 

We  were  put  upon  a  Confederate  steamer, 
and  as  it  approached  Fort  Sumter  we  were 
ordered  to  sit  on  the  deck  with  our  backs  to  the 
bulwarks,  that  we  might  not  see  its  battered 
condition.  But  while  the  guard's  face  was 
turned  I  caught  with  great  satisfaction  a 
glimpse  of  its  completely  demolished  wall  on 
the  side  towards  our  guns,  and  it  was  to  me  an 
augury  of  our  sure  triumph.  Only  two  weeks 
before,  the  commander  of  Fort  Sumter,  Capt. 
John  C.  Mitchell,  was  killed  by  a  shell  from 
Morris  Island,  and  now  the  force  within  the 
fortress  was  commanded  by  Captain  Huguenin, 
only  twenty-six  years  of  age.  No  wonder  it 
was  said  of  the  Confederate  government  that 
to  support  its  tottering  pillars  it  robbed  the 
cradle  and  the  grave. 

At  the  mouth  of  the  harbor  we  were  met  by 
a  United  States  steamer  and  transferred  to  its 
protection.  How  can  I  tell  my  joy  when  at 
last  I  stood  once  more  under  the  old  flag? 
How  beautiful  to  my  long-exiled  vision  was 
every  waving  of  its  folds!  I  have  seen  the 
gorgeous  sunsets  of  the  Bay  of  Naples,  where 
the  golden  haze  of  the  atmosphere  unites  in 
one  indistinguishable  glory  the  flaming  mirror 
of  the  sea  and  the  flaming  canopy  of  the  clouds, 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  145 

and  I  have  felt  the  finer  fascination  of  the  moon 
at  midnight  on  the  canals  at  Venice  as  they 
mirrored  its  silvery  splendor  in  the  magnificent 
framework  of  cathedrals  and  palaces,  but  the 
loveliest  vision  upon  which  my  eyes  ever  lingered 
was  the  flag  of  my  country  as  it  gleamed  at  the 
masthead  of  the  steamer  that  waited  in  the 
distance  to  receive  me  out  of  prison.  Its  stars 
calmed  my  anxious  spirit,  as  they  told  of  the 
steadfast  endurance  of  the  nation's  life,  and 
every  streaming  fold  wrapped  me  in  its  sure 
protection. 

"Its  hues  were  all  of  heaven — 

The  red  of  sunset's  dye, 
The  whiteness  of  the  moonlit  cloud, 
The  blue  of  morning's  sky." 

Under  its  starry  benediction  it  seemed  as  if 
every  faculty  of  my  being  was  distended  with 
the  fulness  of  delight.  It  was  so  splendid  to 
breathe  again  the  free  and  unpolluted  air!  So 
glorious  to  see  the  whole  expanse  of  the  heavens ! 
So  heart-quickening  to  feel  that  I  was  again 
among  friends!  For  days  it  all  seemed  like  a 
splendid  dream,  and  every  moment  I  felt  a 
quivering  fear  lest  the  vision  should  break  and 
I  should  awake  to  find  myself  again  in  Rebel 
hands. 

I  made  it  my  first  duty  to  acquaint  General 


146     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND  PRISON 

Saxton — then  in  command  of  the  besieging 
forces — with  the  fact  that  the  shells  from  his 
batteries  were  bursting  directly  over  the  prison 
in  which  our  men  were  confined,  and  that  a 
slight  change  of  direction  would  relieve  them; 
and  he  at  once  ordered  the  change  to  be  made. 
I  then  sought  by  every  possible  means,  and  at 
last  successfully,  to  send  money  and  clothing 
back  to  my  messmates.  But  I  was  most  pleased 
to  be  able  to  interest  the  Commissioner  of  Ex 
change  in  my  sick  companion,  Lieut.  C.  W. 
Amory,  and  to  get  him  released  in  time  to  save 
his  life,  though  with  a  broken  constitution  that 
never  was  made  whole  (Note  n>. 

Then  I  sought  for  the  headquarters  of  the 
Provost  Marshal  to  report  to  him;  and  as  I 
inquired  the  way  of  a  negro,  he  seemed  struck 
with  my  pitiful  appearance.  Perhaps  he  saw 
by  my  sallow  complexion  and  sunken  cheeks 
that  I  was  just  from  prison.  At  least  he  was 
led  in  some  way  to  suspect  that  I  had  seen  better 
days,  and  he  said,  "Massa!  you  wants  better 
hat.  Dat  hat  good  enub  for  nigger" — and 
with  that  he  took  off  his  own  and  insisted  upon 
swapping,  as  my  Rebel  captor  had  before,  only 
the  cavalier  urged  his  suit  with  a  loaded  pistol, 
the  negro  with  a  full  heart.  The  former  I 
would  not  refuse  for  the  sake  of  my  life,  the 
latter  I  could  not  for  the  sake  of  humanity; 


IN  THE  CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  147 

and  I  have  kept  the  hat  these  fifty-three  years 
as  a  memento  of  those  deep  chords  of  sympathy 
that,  beneath  all  disguises  of  ignorance,  misery, 
and  degradation,  thrill  to  the  touch  of  human 
need. 

I  soon  found  the  Provost  Marshal  and  tried 
to  get  my  back  pay.  But  he  required  some 
proof  of  my  identity,  and  I  knew  no  one  at 
Hilton  Head.  So  I  took  the  boat  for  Morris 
Island,  where  was  stationed  the  Fifty-fifth 
Massachusetts  Infantry,  many  of  whose  officers 
(among  them  Col.  A.  S.  Hartwell,  H.  C.  1858; 
Lieut.  Col.  C.  B.  Fox;  and  Capt.  C.  S.  Soule, 
H.  C.  1862)  were  my  personal  friends.  On  the 
boat  were  many  Sanitary  Commission  supplies 
and  I  recall  the  eagerness  with  which  I  dipped 
into  a  bottle  of  delicious  lemon  jelly;  but,  like 
all  other  things  that  I  ate  in  my  then  weakened 
condition,  it  palled  upon  my  stomach.  I  did 
not,  however,  lose  the  sense  of  delightful  satis 
faction  in  tasting  of  something  that  was  pro 
vided,  not,  as  for  two  months  past,  by  the 
grudging  hands  of  the  enemies  of  the  Union, 
but  by  the  loving  devotion  of  friends  at  home. 
At  Morris  Island  I  got  a  full  outfit  of  govern 
ment  clothing,  and  after  a  bath  in  the  ocean 
made  a  glad  offering  to  Neptune  of  my  prison 
garb.  As  soon  as  I  got  my  pay  I  took  a 
steamer  for  New  York,  and  reached  my  home 


148      FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND  PRISON 

in  Dorchester,  September  1 7th.  There  and  in 
the  delightful  companionship  and  refreshment 
of  the  island  of  Naushon,  with  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
John  M.  Forbes,  I  spent  nearly  four  weeks  try 
ing  to  recuperate  my  strength  sufficiently  to 
return  to  the  seat  of  war,  which  I  did  October 
1 3th,  but  I  never  recovered  the  vigor  which  was 
so  severely  drained  by  the  exposures  and  starva 
tion  of  Southern  prisons.  I  was  more  fortunate, 
however,  than  most  in  that  it  was  possible  for 
me  to  return  to  the  front  and  take  an  active 
part  in  the  closing  scenes  of  the  war;  and  to 
these  scenes  we  will  now  direct  our  attention. 

The  Campaign  of  the  Shenandoah  Valley 
may  be  dated  from  the  7th  of  July,  when 
General  Early  made  his  appearance  at  Freder 
ick,  threatening  at  the  same  time  both  Balti 
more  and  Washington.  On  the  8th  he  advanced 
towards  Washington.  Gen.  Lew  Wallace, 
then  in  command  at  Baltimore,  hurried  for 
ward  with  a  small  extemporized  force  of  raw 
troops,  and,  though  sure  of  defeat,  he  with  the 
help  of  Rickett's  division  of  the  Sixth  Corps 
blocked  Early's  path  for  a  few  hours  at  the 
Monocacy  and  so  accomplished  more  than  is 
sometimes  gained  by  a  victory.  Early  pushed 
on  as  far  as  Fort  Stevens,  one  of  the  outermost 
defences  of  the  Federal  Capital.  He  might  then 
have  dashed  into  the  city  and  have  gained  the 


IN  THE  CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  149 

empty  glory  of  holding  it  a  few  hours.  But 
he  delayed,  and  made  a  reconnoissance  with  a 
view  to  attacking  on  the  next  morning;  but 
that  very  afternoon — thanks  to  the  energy  of 
John  Garrett,  president  of  the  Baltimore  & 
Ohio  Railroad — the  rest  of  the  Sixth  Corps 
under  General  Wright,  who  had  by  the  fore 
sight  of  General  Grant  been  detached  for  this 
purpose  from  the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  arrived, 
and  was  soon  followed  by  the  Nineteenth 
Corps  under  General  Emory,  and  when  Gen 
eral  Early,  on  the  morning  of  July  I2th,  found 
the  defences  of  the  city  well  manned,  his  eager 
ness  to  attack  was  at  once  changed  into  anxiety 
for  his  own  safety,  and  he  began  to  retire 
towards  the  Potomac.  As  it  happened,  the 
Second  Massachusetts  Cavalry  Regiment  was 
then  the  only  one  available  for  pursuit,  and  it 
started  immediately  to  harass  the  Rebel  re 
treat.  Our  advance  battalion  led  by  Colonel 
Crowninshield  came  upon  Early's  extreme  rear 
guard — composed  of  Jackson's  cavalry  brigade 
— just  beyond  Rockville,  and  charged  upon 
them  gallantly.  The  Rebel  Gen.  B.  T.  Johnson 
says,  "The  Second  Massachusetts  Cavalry 
hung  upon  our  rear  and  made  it  very  uncom 
fortable  for  us  generally."  The  discrepancy  of 
numbers  suggests  the  likeness  of  a  small  fly 
hanging  upon  the  flanks  of  a  large  horse,  but 


150     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

even  thus  a  good  deal  of  annoyance  can  be 
given.  The  Rebels  were  soon  provoked  to  turn, 
resolved  to  wipe  out  our  regiment.  They  drew 
up  two  of  their  best  brigades — one  of  them 
known  as  the  Maryland  Line — and  made  a 
heavy  counter-charge,  overpowering  our  ad 
vance  squadron,  and  hurling  it  back  upon  the 
rest  of  the  regiment  just  as  it  was  being  led  by 
Colonel  Lowell  through  the  centre  of  the  town. 
There  was  not  time  for  the  Colonel  even  to  turn 
his  column,  and  it  was  overwhelmed  by  the 
numbers  and  fury  of  the  onset,  and  forced  back 
in  confusion  towards  Washington.  But  Colonel 
Lowell  was  not  the  man  thus  to  give  up  the 
day.  At  the  very  first  favorable  position,  with 
a  splendid  audacity,  and  a  voice  sure  to  be 
obeyed,  he  shouted  the  order — "Halt!  Dis 
mount!"  The  men  in  a  moment  sprang  from 
their  saddles,  in  another  moment  they  were  in 
line,  and  in  the  next  moment  poured  such  a  hot 
volley  into  the  pursuing  column  that  it  recoiled 
in  confusion.  Then  with  his  small  force — just 
before  routed  and  in  full  retreat — he  held  the 
ground  against  four  impetuous  charges  till  the 
enemy  were  forced  to  retire  without  dislodging 
him  from  his  position.  This  was  a  marked 
instance  of  his  genius  for  command.  Other 
leaders  might  give  the  proper  orders,  but  not 
one  in  a  thousand  could  thus  make  them  in- 


IN  THE  CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  151 

stantly  obeyed.  Colonel  Lowell's  control  over 
his  men  on  this  occasion  has  not  inaptly  been 
compared  to  Sheridan's  more  famous  rally  of  his 
broken  columns  at  the  battle  of  Cedar  Creek. 

General  Early  now  hurriedly  crossed  the 
Potomac  at  Edwards  Ferry,  taking  with  him 
an  immense  train  of  horses,  cattle,  hogs,  and 
sheep,  and  wagons  loaded  with  grain,  groceries, 
and  clothing,  and,  besides,  several  hundred 
thousand  dollars  which  he  had  levied  upon  the 
citizens  of  Hagarstown  and  Frederick.  But 
although  he  had  made  such  desperate  efforts, 
marching  his  men  four  hundred  and  ninety-seven 
miles  in  twenty-five  days,  he  had  utterly  failed 
in  the  main  object  of  his  expedition,  which  was 
to  so  threaten  Washington  that  Grant  would 
be  compelled  to  relax  his  hold  on  Petersburg. 
The  same  tactics  had  succeeded  several  times 
before  when  other  generals  were  in  command 
of  the  Union  forces,  but  Grant  had  that  dogged 
persistency  that  he  could  not  be  shaken  from 
the  grip  he  had  taken  in  the  throat  of  the  Con 
federacy;  he  simply  detached  one  corps  that 
he  could  afford  to  spare,  and  so  kept  Lee  in  his 
intrenchments. 

Shortly  after  this  abortive  attempt  to  frighten 
Grant,  Early  made  another  on  July  25th,  and 
this  time  penetrated  into  Pennsylvania  as  far 
as  Chambersburg,  and  laid  the  town  in  ashes. 


152      FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND  PRISON 

This  sent  great  consternation  through  the 
North,  and  determined  Grant  to  clear  the 
Shenandoah  Valley.  This  beautiful  valley  was 
an  immense  granary  for  feeding  the  armies 
about  Richmond,  and  its  high  bastions  of  hills 
on  either  side  furnished  an  easy  and  safe  path 
for  an  invading  army  to  penetrate  into  Penn 
sylvania  or  Maryland  or  to  threaten  Washing 
ton.  Twice  before,  Lee  had  thus  used  it,— 
in  the  Maryland  invasion  of  1862  which  ended 
in  the  Battle  of  Antietam,  and  in  the  Pennsyl 
vania  invasion  of  1863  which  ended  in  the 
Battle  of  Gettysburg.  At  all  times  it  had  been 
necessary  to  employ  a  considerable  army  to 
guard  the  Valley  and  its  passes,  and  now 
Grant  determined  to  clear  it  out  and  lay  it 
waste,  that  it  might  no  longer  distract  his 
attention  from  the  main  army  of  Virginia  in 
its  intrenchments  before  Petersburg.  To  this 
end  he  consolidated  the  four  geographical  dis 
tricts — West  Virginia,  Washington,  the  Susque- 
hanna,  and  the  Middle  Department — into  one, 
styled  the  Middle  Military  Division,  and  put  it 
under  the  command  of  Maj.  Gen.  Philip  H. 
Sheridan  on  the  yth  of  August,  1864.  Both 
Lincoln  and  Stanton  thought  him  too  young 
for  such  a  responsibility,  as  he  was  then  only 
thirty-three;  but  Grant  saw  in  him  just  the 
leader  he  wanted,  and  General  Hunter,  with 


IN  THE  CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  153 

pure  and  patriotic  disinterestedness,  withdrew 
from  the  chief  command  of  the  department  in 
order  to  give  Sheridan  free  play.  Taking  only 
three  days  to  get  his  troops  in  hand,  Sheridan 
began  on  the  loth  of  August  to  move  up  the 
Valley,  Colonel  Lowell's  provisional  brigade 
leading  the  advance.  This  brigade  had  been 
hastily  made  up  of  the  Second  Massachusetts 
Cavalry  and  detached  portions  of  nearly  every 
other  cavalry  regiment  in  the  service  swept 
together  from  the  dismounted  camps  near 
Washington.  And  yet  in  less  than  two  weeks 
Colonel  Lowell  moulded  this  heterogeneous 
mass  into  a  well-disciplined  troop  and  held  it 
in  the  position  of  greatest  peril,  opening  the 
way  for  Sheridan's  advance.  Lowell's  brigade 
was  under  fire  every  day  for  the  next  month, 
on  the  nth  of  August  driving  the  enemy 
pell-mell  through  Winchester  and  along  the 
Valley  pike  southward  as  far  as  Fisher's  Hill, 
and  on  the  i6th  guarding  Sheridan's  rear  as 
he  retired  down  the  Valley  again  to  Halltown 
and  Harpers  Ferry.  This  retrograde  move 
ment  was  determined  upon  by  Sheridan  when 
he  learned  by  his  scouts  that  Lee  had  detached 
from  his  army  about  Richmond  two  divisions 
of  infantry  under  General  Anderson,  two  bri- 
grades  of  cavalry  under  Fitzhugh  Lee,  and 
twenty  pieces  of  artillery,  and  that  they  were 


154     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND  PRISON 

hurrying  to  Early's  assistance  by  the  way  of 
Front  Royal.  Sheridan  sent  Merritt's  division 
to  watch  their  movements,  and  it  was  attacked 
by  Kershaw's  division  of  infantry  and  Fitz- 
hugh  Lee's  division  of  cavalry,  but  it  hand 
somely  repelled  the  attack,  Devin's  brigade 
taking  the  honors — two  battle-flags  and  three 
hundred  prisoners.  Devin  won  his  star  in 
this  fight. 

On  the  26th  of  August,  Lowell  led  his  two 
regiments  of  troopers  in  an  attack  on  the 
advance  line  of  the  enemy's  infantry  and 
charged  up  to  a  rail  fence  behind  which  they 
were  intrenched,  and  while  he  and  a  few  of  his 
men  held  them  there — he  himself  actually 
whacking  their  levelled  muskets  with  his  sabre — 
the  rest  tore  down  the  barrier,  and  then  they 
all  charged  again,  and  captured  one  colonel, 
three  captains,  five  lieutenants,  and  seventy- 
four  men.  Such  a  noble  scorn  of  danger  and 
death  inspired  our  men  with  a  perfect  obedience, 
and  a  courage  that  quailed  at  nothing.  Lowell's 
daring  and  skill  in  this  attack  made  a  deep 
impression  on  Sheridan,  and  as  an  expression 
of  his  confidence  he  took  the  brigade  of  Regular 
Cavalry — First,  Second,  Fifth,  and  Sixth — 
and  Artillery  that  had  been  raised  for  General 
Buford,  and  which  was  called  the  finest  in 
the  service,  and  put  with  it  the  Second  Massa- 


IN  THE  CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  155 

chusetts  Cavalry  Volunteers,  and,  designating 
them  all  as  the  Reserve  Brigade,  gave  the  com 
mand  of  it  to  Colonel  Lowell.  While  the  main 
army  remained  near  Harpers  Ferry  several 
weeks  with  no  important  movement,  the 
cavalry  was  employed  every  day  in  harassing 
the  enemy,  its  opponents  being  principally 
infantry.  Sheridan  wanted  to  "educate  them" 
— as  he  said — "to  attack  infantry  lines." 

On  the  i6th  of  September,  Grant  visited 
General  Sheridan  at  Charlestown  and  brought 
with  him  a  plan  for  a  campaign  against  Early. 
But  he  found  Sheridan  so  much  master  of  the 
situation,  and  so  confident  of  what  he  could  do 
if  he  only  had  the  authority,  that  without  even 
taking  the  plan  out  of  his  pocket  he  said 
simply,  "Go  in."  And  Sheridan  did  go  in, 
and  only  three  days  after  initiated  the  famous 
Battle  of  Winchester  by  moving  against  Early, 
who  was  posted  with  about  26,000  infantry  and 
4,000  cavalry  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
Opequan.  Sheridan  had  learned  through  a 
loyal  lady  in  Winchester  that  Lee  had  recalled 
Anderson  with  Kershaw's  division  of  infantry 
and  twelve  pieces  of  artillery;  and  besides  he 
learned  through  his  own  scouts  that  Early  had 
just  then  divided  his  forces  to  try  again  one  of 
those  raids  on  the  Baltimore  &  Ohio  Railroad 
which  had  so  often  created  a  panic  in  Washing- 


156      FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

ton  and  among  the  Union  generals.  But 
Sheridan  was  made  of  other  stuff,  and  saw 
his  opportunity,  and  at  once  determined  on 
assault. 

On  the  morning  of  September  iQth  the 
movement  began.  The  plan  was  for  Wilson's 
division  of  cavalry  to  force  the  passage  of  the 
Opequan  where  it  is  crossed  by  the  Berryville 
pike  and  open  the  way  for  Sheridan  with  the 
Sixth  and  Nineteenth  Corps  and  General 
Crook's  command  to  move  upon  General 
Ramseur's  two  divisions  that  had  been  left 
to  guard  that  crossing  while  Early  with  three 
divisions  under  Gordon,  Rodes,  and  Brecken- 
ridge  were  off  on  a  raid  into  Maryland.  But 
Early  on  reaching  Martinsburg  had  learned 
on  the  morning  of  the  i8th  of  September  of 
Grant's  visit  to  Sheridan,  and,  suspecting  a 
movement,  immediately  started  back,  and 
by  night  his  advance  divisions  under  Brecken- 
ridge  and  Rodes  had  reached  Stephenson's 
station  while  Gordon's  division  had  reached 
Bunker's  hill.  Fitzhugh  Lee's  cavalry,  near 
Breckenridge,  guarded  the  left  of  Early's  ex 
tended  line,  and  Lomax's  cavalry  guarded  its 
right  adjoining  Ramseur's  infantry.  Although 
Wilson's  cavalry  started  betimes  and  carried 
the  Berryville  crossing  at  dawn,  yet  the  gorge 
fronting  Ramseur's  position  was  so  narrow 


IN  THE  CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  157 

that  Sheridan  found  it  impossible  to  march 
his  army  through  and  get  into  position  before 
ten  o'clock,  and  by  that  time  Early  by  forced 
marches  with  the  divisions  of  Gordon  and 
Rodes  had  come  within  supporting  distance 
of  Ramseur's  left  and  so  made  Sheridan's  task 
harder  than  he  expected,  and  compelled  him 
to  give  up  the  plan  which  he  had  first  enter 
tained  of  putting  Crook's  command  south  of 
Winchester  to  cut  off  Early's  retreat.  In 
stead,  he  held  it  in  reserve  to  be  used  at  the 
crisis  of  the  battle.  His  line  was  formed  with 
the  Sixth  Corps  at  the  left  supported  by  Wil 
son's  cavalry,  and  the  Nineteenth  Corps  hold 
ing  the  centre  and  right.  The  enemy's  re 
sistance  was  very  stubborn,  and  about  noon, 
in  an  impetuous  charge  upon  the  right  of  the 
Sixth  and  the  left  of  the  Nineteenth  Corps, 
they  pressed  back  our  line  and  threatened  to 
break  it,  using  for  this  purpose  the  divisions 
of  Gordon  and  Rodes,  who  had  just  arrived 
for  the  succor  of  Ramseur.  But  Sheridan, 
nothing  disconcerted,  holding  Russell's  bri 
gade  of  the  Sixth  Corps  in  hand,  waited  till 
the  enemy's  advance  opened  their  flank  to 
attack,  and  then  unleashed  Russell's  men 
upon  them,  and  drove  them  back  in  confusion 
and  re-formed  his  own  line.  Sheridan  now 
delayed  the  final  blow  till  he  should  hear  of 


158     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND  PJUSON 

the  success  of  Merritt  on  his  extreme  right, 
and  he  did  not  have  to  wait  long.  Merritt 
had  started  from  Summit  Point  at  three 
o'clock  in  the  morning  and  with  Devin's  and 
Lowell's  brigades  had  carried  Seaver's  ford 
a  little  before  sunrise.  The  enemy's  infantry 
was  posted  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  Opequan 
at  that  crossing,  and  their  fire  was  simply 
terrific;  but  Colonel  Lowell,  having  the  ad 
vance,  threw  over  dismounted  men  as  skir 
mishers,  and  closely  supported  them  with  the 
Fifth  United  States  and  Second  Massachu 
setts  Cavalry,  and  soon  by  a  brilliant  charge 
gained  the  crest  and  captured  a  body  of  in 
fantry.  General  Merritt  then  connected 
Lowell's  line  on  the  right  with  that  of  General 
Custer  who  had  gallantly  carried  Locke's  ford 
three-quarters  of  a  mile  below,  and  on  the  left 
with  the  line  of  General  Devin,  and  the  three 
brigades  now  advanced  together,  with  orders 
to  press  the  enemy  vigorously.  Soon  the  line 
of  Breckenridge's  infantry  was  seen  in  the 
edge  of  the  woods,  protected  by  rail  barricades. 
Major  Smith  of  the  Second  United  States 
Cavalry  says,  "It  seemed  rash,  yes!  foolhardy 
to  charge  a  line  of  infantry  so  well  posted; 
but  we  did,  Colonel  Lowell  leading  the  charge 
with  the  Second  United  States  Cavalry  in 
column  of  squadrons."  Nothing  could  exceed 


IN  THE  CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  159 

the  brilliant  heroism  of  this  assault.  "Can 
non  in  front  of  them  volleyed  and  thundered." 
The  long-range  muskets  of  the  infantry  on 
either  side  poured  upon  them  showers  of  leaden 
hail,  which  could  not  be  returned  by  the 
cavalry's  short-range  carbines  till  Lowell  had 
brought  his  men  within  a  few  hundred  yards 
of  the  barricade.  Then,  forming  his  column  in 
line,  Lowell  led  them  up  to  the  very  muzzles 
of  the  enemy's  guns.  But  no  human  power 
could  take  such  a  position  against  such  fearful 
odds.  Many  fell  never  to  rise  again.  But 
the  moral  effect  of  this  charge  was  equal  to  a 
victory,  as  was  plainly  to  be  seen  in  the  sub 
sequent  events  of  the  day,  and  Sheridan's 
object  was  gained  in  keeping  Breckenridge, 
whose  attention  was  thus  taken  up  with  our 
cavalry,  from  sending  his  corps  to  reinforce 
Early  near  Winchester. 

Merritt's  cavalry  now  formed  a  junction  with 
General  Averell,  who  had  moved  his  division 
of  cavalry  up  the  valley  from  Darksville  and 
had  taken  a  position  near  Stephenson's  station, 
ready  to  form  with  Merritt  a  turning  column 
at  the  crisis  of  the  battle.  This  time  came 
about  four  o'clock  when  Sheridan  pressed  the 
enemy  in  front  with  the  Sixth  and  Nineteenth 
Corps,  and  let  loose  Crook  and  Merritt  upon 
his  left  flank,  routing  his  whole  command  and 


160      FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

driving  them  in  great  confusion  through  Win 
chester  and  for  miles  up  the  pike,  and  capturing 
twenty-five  hundred  prisoners,  five  pieces  of 
artillery,  and  nine  battle-flags.  In  this  final 
charge,  the  open  country  on  either  side  of  the 
Valley  pike  offered  an  opportunity  such  as 
seldom  came  during  the  war  for  an  attack 
with  a  broad  front  of  mounted  troops.  The 
Confederate  line  at  this  point  constituted  the 
left  flank  of  Early's  army  and  was  held  by 
Breckenridge's  infantry  and  Fitzhugh  Lee's 
cavalry.  General  Torbert's  line  was  all  cavalry 
and  was  made  up  of  five  brigades  abreast, 
Lowell's  Reserve  Brigade  on  the  left,  connecting 
with  Crook's  infantry,  then  on  the  right  in 
succession  Devin's  and  Custer's  brigades,  and 
still  to  the  right  Averell's  division.  These 
all  moved  by  brigade  front  with  single  regi 
ments  in  column  of  squadrons.  One  continu 
ous  and  heavy  line  of  skirmishers  covered  the 
advance,  using  only  the  carbine,  while  the  line 
of  brigades  as  they  advanced  across  the  open 
country,  the  bands  playing  the  national  airs, 
presented  in  the  sunlight  one  moving  mass  of 
glittering  sabres  intermingled  here  and  there 
with  bright-colored  banners  and  battle-flags. 
It  was  one  of  the  most  inspiring  and  imposing 
scenes  of  martial  grandeur  ever  witnessed. 
Little  effective  opposition  to  this  charge  was 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  161 

made  till  near  Winchester.  Here  the  Reserve 
Brigade  was  exposed,  without  cover,  to  the 
severe  fire  of  a  well-posted  line  of  the  enemy's 
infantry.  Yet — though  now  reduced  to  about 
six  hundred  men — it  rode  up  fearlessly  within 
five  hundred  yards  of  the  enemy,  who  had  on 
their  left  a  two-gun  battery  resting  on  an  old 
earthwork.  The  order  was  given  to  charge  the 
line  and  get  the  guns.  The  brigade  was  in 
column  of  squadrons,  the  Second  United  States 
Cavalry  in  front.  General  Rodenbough  of 
this  regiment  says:  "At  the  sound  of  the  bugle 
we  took  the  trot,  then  the  gallop,  then  the 
charge.  As  we  neared  their  line  we  were  wel 
comed  by  a  fearful  musketry  fire,  which  threw 
the  leading  squadron  into  temporary  confusion. 
But  the  instant  shouts  of  the  officers — 'For 
ward!  Forward!'  brought  a  response  of  deafen 
ing  cheers,  and  without  breaking  front  the 
column  leaped  a  blind  ditch  and  we  were  face 
to  face  with  the  enemy.  They  seemed  to 
stand  a  moment,  as  in  awe  of  the  heroism  of 
the  brigade,  and  then  broke  at  once  into  com 
plete  rout,  our  men  sabring  them  as  they  vainly 
sought  safety  in  flight.  I" — continues  the 
General — "I  was  taken  prisoner  just  in  front 
of  the  second  line  of  the  enemy's  works,  my 
horse  being  shot  under  me.  As  my  captors 
surrounded  me,  they  cried — 'Great  God! 


1 62     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

what  a  fearful  charge!  what  brigade  was  that?* 
The  confusion,  disorder,  and  actual  rout  pro 
duced  by  the  successive  charges  of  Merritt's 
cavalry  division  would  appear  incredible  did  I 
not  actually  witness  them." 

In  this  superb  charge,  Colonel  Lowell  achieved 
new  distinction.  In  the  confusion  of  the  on 
set,  at  one  time  he  found  himself  with  only 
Captain  Rodenbough  and  four  men  face  to 
face  with  one  of  Breckenridge's  guns  whose 
first  discharge  killed  Billy — Major  Forbes' 
favorite  horse,  which  Lowell  was  then  riding — 
tore  off  the  Captain's  arm,  and  wounded  two 
of  the  men.  Yet  the  Colonel  would  not 
retreat,  but  quietly  mounted  the  first  horse 
that  came  up  and  soon  the  gun  was  his.  "A 
little  more  spunk,"  said  Lowell,  not  even  then 
satisfied  that  enough  had  been  done,  "and  we 
should  have  had  all  their  colors."  A  member 
of  Sheridan's  staff  answered,  "A  little  more 
go,  and  you  would  have  been  in  Richmond." 

Sheridan  telegraphed  from  the  field  to  Wash 
ington,  "We  have  just  sent  the  enemy  whirling 
through  Winchester,  and  shall  be  after  them 
to-morrow."  Custer  says,  "This  was  the  first 
decisive  field  victory  won  in  the  war,  and 
was  made  decisive  only  by  the  proper  use  of 
cavalry."  In  this  battle  Sheridan  again  justi 
fied  his  boast  to  Meade  in  the  Wilderness  that 


IN  THE  CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  163 

he  could  accomplish  something  worth  while  if 
Meade  would  let  him  have  the  cavalry  in  mass 
instead  of  in  small  detachments.  The  news  of 
this  victory  in  the  North  gave  unbounded  joy, 
and  it  relieved  Maryland  and  Pennsylvania 
from  any  further  fears  of  invasion.  Of  course 
the  cost  of  the  victory  was  great,  the  Union 
loss  amounting  to  about  4,500  in  killed, 
wounded,  and  missing. 

General  Early  did  not  pause  in  his  flight  till 
he  reached  Strasburg,  and  took  up  a  very  strong 
position  reaching  across  the  Valley  from  Fisher's 
Hill  to  North  Mountain.  Here  Sheridan  as 
saulted  his  front  with  the  Sixth  and  Nineteenth 
Corps,  and  again,  as  at  Winchester,  used 
Crook's  infantry  as  a  turning  column,  and 
sent  it  under  cover  of  the  woods  along  the 
slopes  of  North  Mountain  upon  the  Rebel 
left  and  rear,  and  so  routed  Early  again  and  in 
greater  disorder  than  before,  and  his  army  fled, 
leaving  behind  sixteen  pieces  of  artillery  and 
several  hundred  prisoners.  Sheridan  still  kept 
up  the  pursuit  through  Woodstock,  Mount 
Jackson,  Harrisonburg,  and  Staunton,  till  Early 
took  refuge  in  the  gaps  of  the  Blue  Ridge,  and 
then,  not  caring  to  subsist  his  army  so  far  from 
its  base  of  supplies,  Sheridan  slowly  retired 
down  the  Valley,  spreading  his  cavalry  so  that 
they  swept  in  all  useful  supplies,  and  leaving  the 


1 64     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND  PRISON 

country  waste.  At  first  the  Rebel  cavalry 
kept  at  a  respectful  distance;  but  later  they 
took  courage  from  the  arrival  of  General  Rosser 
with  a  fresh  brigade  from  Richmond,  and  began 
to  annoy  Sheridan's  rear  guard.  On  the  third 
day  Sheridan  determined  to  halt  his  army  and 
teach  Rosser  a  lesson  that  would  check  his  pre 
sumption.  So  he  ordered  General  Torbert  to 
engage  the  enemy  next  morning  and  added  in 
his  brusque  way,  "Either  whip  him  or  get 
whipped." 

At  daylight  on  the  Qth,  Torbert  advanced 
with  Custer  on  the  back  road  facing  the  Rebel 
General  Rosser — who  had  been  heralded  as  the 
savior  of  the  Valley — and  with  Merritt  on  the 
pike  facing  the  Rebel  Generals  Lomax  and 
Johnson.  Colonel  Lowell  and  the  Second  Mas 
sachusetts  had  the  advance  along  the  pike,  and 
as  the  Colonel  led  forward  his  dismounted  skir 
mish  line,  his  men  crouched  behind  trees,  rocks, 
and  fences,  or  anything  that  promised  shelter. 
But  the  Colonel  rode  fearlessly  along  the  line, 
and,  though  he  was  thus  a  conspicuous  target 
for  the  enemy's  musketry,  he  seemed  not  to 
mind  it,  and  coolly  directed  every  movement 
of  his  men.  The  enemy  soon  grew  tremulous 
at  this  bold  advance,  and  Lowell,  seeing  it,  or 
dered  the  bugles  to  sound  the  charge,  upon 
which  the  Confederate  lines  broke  in  utter 


IN  THE  CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  165 

confusion,  and  a  hot  pursuit  was  made  for 
twenty-six  miles  as  far  as  Mount  Jackson, 
where  they  found  protection  behind  Early's 
infantry. 

Custer  had  a  like  success  on  the  back  road 
about  three  miles  away  and  parallel  to  the  pike. 
He  chased  Rosser  and  his  "Laurel  Brigade" — 
as  it  was  called — beyond  Columbia  Furnaces. 
The  captures  of  the  day  were  eleven  pieces  of 
artillery  and  three  hundred  prisoners.  The 
engagement  was  afterwards  known  as  the  Wood 
stock  races,  and  in  many  respects  was  the  most 
brilliant  cavalry  fight  of  the  war.  All  the  early 
part  of  it  was  along  "Toms  Brook"  which  gives 
the  official  name  to  the  battle,  and  Sheridan 
witnessed  the  charges  and  counter-charges 
from  the  summit  of  Round  Top  Mountain. 
The  honors  of  the  day  were  about  even  between 
Lowell  and  Custer,  but  a  friend  and  follower 
of  Custer  could  not  say  too  much  in  praise  of 
what  he  styles  "the  steady  old  Reserve  Brigade 
— the  regulars  under  Lowell."  The  only  vol 
unteer  regiment  in  this  brigade  was  the  Second 
Massachusetts,  and  equalled  in  discipline  and 
effectiveness  the  best  of  the  regulars. 

Sheridan  now  retired  to  Strasburg  and  took 
position  on  the  north  bank  of  Cedar  Creek. 
He  reports  that  in  this  movement  from  Staun- 
ton  to  Strasburg,  in  carrying  out  his  orders 


1 66     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

to  destroy  everything  that  could  subsist  the 
Rebel  army,  he  burned  over  two  thousand 
barns  filled  with  wheat  and  hay,  and  over 
seventy  mills  filled  with  flour,  and  drove  before 
the  army  more  than  five  thousand  head  of 
cattle  and  three  thousand  sheep.  Such  is  the 
desolation  that  lies  in  the  track  of  war. 

But  spite  of  this  desolation  and  his  frequent 
defeats,  General  Early  soon  returned  down  the 
Valley  with  reinforcements  of  infantry  and 
cavalry,  and  took  position  behind  the  intrench- 
ments  at  Fishers  Hill.  Sheridan  had  not  be 
lieved  that  Early  would  again  take  the  offensive 
in  full  force,  and  so  had  detached  the  Sixth 
Corps  and  started  it  towards  Ashby's  Gap  to 
join  the  Army  of  the  Potomac.  But  a  bold 
demonstration  by  Early  on  the  I3th  of  October 
against  our  lines  led  Sheridan  to  recall  the 
Sixth  Corps,  and  it  took  position  on  the  right 
of  the  Nineteenth  Corps,  which  was  holding 
the  north  bank  of  Cedar  Creek  west  of  the 
Valley  pike.  General  Crook  held  the  position 
east  of  the  Valley  pike  as  far  as  the  junction 
of  Cedar  Creek  and  the  Shenandoah  River. 

At  this  time  Sheridan  was  summoned  by  the 
Secretary  of  War  to  Washington  for  a  consul 
tation,  and  started  October  i6th  and  proceeded 
as  far  as  Front  Royal  with  the  whole  cavalry 
corps,  meaning  to  send  it  through  Chester  Gap 


IN  THE  CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  167 

to  Charlottesville  to  destroy  the  Virginia 
Central  Railroad,  while  he  himself  went  through 
Manassas  Gap  with  a  small  escort  to  Washing 
ton.  But  at  Front  Royal  a  courier  from 
General  Wright  brought  the  following  despatch 
which  had  been  read  by  our  scouts  from  the 
Rebel  signal  flag  on  Three  Top  Mountain: 
"To  Lieutenant  General  Early.  Be  ready  to 
move  as  soon  as  my  forces  join  you,  and  we 
will  crush  Sheridan.  Longstreet,  Lieutenant 
General."  Sheridan,  suspecting  it  was  a  ruse, 
could  not  believe  it,  yet  to  be  on  the  safe  side 
ordered  back  all  the  cavalry  to  General  Wright 
with  the  word  to  "look  well  to  his  ground 
and  be  prepared."  Sheridan  then  hastened  to 
Washington,  arriving  about  eight  o'clock  on 
the  morning  of  the  lyth.  Wishing  to  get  back 
to  his  army  as  soon  as  possible,  he  asked  Secre 
tary  Stanton  to  have  a  special  train  ready  at 
twelve  o'clock  to  take  him  to  Martinsburg, 
which  he  reached  that  evening,  and  the  next 
morning  started  with  his  escort  for  Winchester, 
twenty-eight  miles  away,  and  reached  there 
about  three  o'clock.  Hearing  that  all  was 
quiet  at  the  front,  he  took  a  quiet  night's  sleep, 
while  Early  was  planning  to  surprise  his  com 
mand  and  was  moving  his  troops  all  night 
from  the  intrenchments  at  Fishers  Hill,  going 
himself  with  Kershaw's  division  through  Stras- 


1 68      FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

burg  towards  Roberts'  ford,  sending  Whar- 
ton's  division  by  the  Valley  pike  to  where  it 
crosses  Cedar  Creek,  and  directing  General 
Gordon  to  lead  his  division  with  those  of 
Ramseur  and  Pegram  along  the  road  leading 
to  Front  Royal  till  it  reached  Bowman's  ford 
then  to  cross  the  Shenandoah  and  under  cover 
of  the  darkness  strike  the  rear  of  Crook's 
division,  which  formed  the  left  of  the  Union 
line.  This  left  of  the  infantry,  for  some  un 
accountable  reason,  was  exposed  without  cav 
alry  protection,  although  Sheridan  had  specially 
directed  General  Wright  to  close  in  Powell's 
division,  which  was  then  at  Front  Royal.  Had 
this  been  done  the  disaster  of  the  early  morning 
would  have  been  averted.  As  it  was,  Gordon's 
Confederate  column,  covered  by  the  fog  as 
well  as  the  darkness,  rushed  in  upon  Crook's 
sleeping  camp,  capturing  eighteen  pieces  of 
artillery  and  more  than  a  thousand  prisoners, 
thus  crushing  completely  the  whole  left  of 
our  army.  At  the  same  time,  with  this  rolling 
up  of  our  left  flank,  Early  made  a  direct  attack 
upon  our  centre,  where  the  Nineteenth  Corps 
was  posted,  and  this  also  gave  way  in  the  con 
fusion.  There  remained  then  of  the  infantry 
only  the  Sixth  Corps  not  yet  engaged,  and  that, 
as  often  before,  stood  like  a  tower  of  defence, 
as  did  also  the  cavalry  on  the  right.  It  hap- 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  169 

pened  that  morning  that  in  prompt  obedience 
to  orders  of  the  previous  evening  to  make  a 
reconnoissance  as  soon  as  the  fog  broke, 
Colonel  Lowell  caused  reveille  to  be  sounded 
at  four  o'clock,  and  at  4.30,  spite  of  the  fog, 
his  brigade  was  in  motion.  Crossing  the 
creek,  he  found  the  enemy  in  force  directly 
in  his  front,  and  began  to  skirmish  sharply  with 
him,  and  held  his  position  till  7.30,  when  he 
was  relieved  by  infantry.  His  punctuality  in 
making  this  reconnoissance  and  then  the 
tenacity  with  which  he  held  his  position  saved 
our  right  from  surprise  and  disaster  possibly 
as  great  as  that  which  befell  the  other  end  of 
the  line.  This  stand  of  the  cavalry  and  of  the 
Sixth  Corps  saved  the  army  from  utter  rout, 
and  allowed  the  broken  divisions  of  the  other 
corps  to  form  again  a  few  miles  back  in  and 
about  the  village  of  Middletown.  Here  again, 
before  a  strong  line  of  defense  could  be  made, 
Early  assaulted  our  left  and  threw  it  again 
into  confusion,  and  the  whole  Union  line  fell 
back  about  a  mile  and  a  half  beyond  Middle- 
town  to  a  position  just  secured  by  our  cavalry, 
which  had  at  about  nine  o'clock  been  moved, 
with  Getty's  division  of  infantry,  from  the 
right  to  the  left  of  our  line,  and  which  now 
opposed  an  impregnable  front  to  the  advance 
of  the  enemy  beyond  the  town.  Here,  too, 


170     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND  PRISON 

Colonel  Lowell  held  our  advance  line,  and 
while  the  infantry  were  retreating  in  confusion, 
dismounted  his  little  band  of  cavalry  and 
pressed  forward  under  a  heavy  fire  to  a  strong 
position  behind  a  stone  wall,  and  held  it  spite 
of  the  enemy's  repeated  and  desperate  attempts 
to  dislodge  him  with  heavy  assaulting  columns 
and  with  artillery.  Here,  as  usual,  he  at 
tended  in  person  to  the  disposition  of  his  men, 
riding  backwards  and  forwards  along  the  line 
of  skirmishers,  a  conspicuous  mark  for  the 
sharpshooters  on  the  roofs  of  the  village  of 
Middletown.  Colonel  Lowell  not  only  held 
this  line,  but  led  his  men  in  several  gallant 
charges.  In  the  third  charge  he  had  his  horse 
shot  under  him, — which  was  the  thirteenth 
horse  he  had  thus  lost  in  this  campaign  of 
three  months, — and  here  he  received  his  first 
wound — from  a  spent  ball;  but  he  would  not 
leave  the  field,  although  the  force  of  the  blow 
against  his  lungs  caused  internal  hemorrhage 
which  was  likely  to  prove  fatal.  Torbert's 
cavalry  line  was  thus  held  with  dogged  persist 
ency,  and  with  a  gallantry  that  has  never  been 
surpassed,  till  the  broken  ranks  of  the  infantry 
were  re-formed  several  miles  to  the  right  and 
rear.  The  Commanding  General  says  in  his 
official  report,  "The  cavalry  held  their  ground 
like  men  of  steel;  officers  and  men  seemed  to 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  171 

know  and  to  feel  that  the  safety  of  the  army 
depended  in  no  small  degree  on  their  holding 
their  position,  and  they  can  never  receive  too 
much  credit  for  the  manner  in  which  they  did 
their  duty."  General  Wright  had  given  the 
order  to  retreat  to  Winchester,  and  our  six 
or  seven  thousand  cavalry  kept  the  roads 
open  by  checking  the  enemy  and  repulsing 
charge  after  charge  hurled  upon  them  by  an 
army  of  nearly  twenty  thousand  infantry 
flushed  with  the  morning's  victory.  The  only 
supporting  infantry  on  this  front  line  with 
Custer  and  Merritt  was  Getty's  division  of 
the  Sixth  Corps,  and  it  seemed,  as  the  morning 
wore  away,  as  if  their  united  gallantry  could 
not  much  longer  stem  the  tide  of  the  Rebel 
advance  which  rolled  in  heavier  and  still  heavier 
waves  towards  our  position.  But  just  at  this 
juncture,  while  every  prospect  was  so  threaten 
ing,  unexpected  succor  was  at  hand,  not  in  the 
shape  of  large  reinforcements,  but  in  the  form 
of  one  man. 

"Up  from  the  south  at  break  of  day, 
Bringing  to  Winchester  fresh  dismay, 
The  affrighted  air  with  a  shudder  bore, 
Like  a  herald  in  haste  to  the  Chieftain's  door, 
The  terrible  grumbling  and  rumble  and  roar, 
Telling  the  battle  was  on  once  more 
And  Sheridan  twenty  miles  away." 


172      FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

Sheridan,  who  had  reached  Winchester  the 
night  before  on  his  way  back  from  Washington, 
had  slept  in  the  Logan  House,  then  occupied 
by  Col.  Oliver  Edwards,  commanding  the 
brigade  posted  there.  Before  six  o'clock  in 
the  morning,  the  picket-guards  nearest  Cedar 
Creek  had  heard  the  guns  and  reported  it  to 
Sheridan.  He  thought  it  was  all  right  and 
took  it  to  be  the  sound  of  General  Grover's 
guns  feeling  the  position  of  the  enemy.  A 
little  later  report  came  that  the  firing  was 
continuous.  Upon  that  he  arose  and  ordered 
breakfast  and  that  the  horses  be  saddled. 
Still  he  did  not  even  suspect  any  ill-fortune, 
and  started  off  leisurely  at  about  nine  o'clock 
for  the  front,  mounted  on  Rienzi,  his  coal- 
black  steed.  He  had  not  gone  half  a  mile 
before  he  came  to  a  crest  just  beyond  Mill 
Creek,  and  there  broke  upon  his  astonished 
gaze  the  appalling  spectacle  of  frightened 
herds  of  runaways,  and  broken  and  demoralized 
regiments  and  wagon  trains,  all  skedaddling 
towards  Winchester.  Sheridan  at  once  sent 
word  to  Colonel  Edwards  to  stretch  out  his  bri 
gade  across  the  country  back  of  Mill  Creek  and 
stop  all  fugitives  and  to  park  the  wagon  trains 
north  of  Winchester.  Then  he  detached  most 
of  his  staff  and  escort,  telling  them  to  stretch 
out  in  as  long  a  line  as  they  could  and  drive 


IN  THE  CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  173 

in  the  stragglers;  and  then  he  took  Maj. 
George  A.  Forsythe  and  Capt.  Joseph  O'Keefe 
of  his  staff  and  twenty  men  from  his  escort 
and  with  them  galloped  up  the  pike  towards 
the  front,  himself  shouting  to  the  crowds  he 
met:  "Face  the  other  way,  boys!  Face 
the  other  way!  It's  all  right!  We're  going  to 
lick  them  out  of  their  boots!  We'll  be  back  in 
our  camps  to-night!"  At  times  Sheridan  had  to 
leave  the  pike,  it  was  so  blocked  by  retreating 
wagons  and  flying  troopers.  But  whether 
along  the  pike  or  through  the  fields,  his  presence 
infused  new  courage,  and  even  the  skedaddlers 
began  to  turn  about  and  to  cheer.  His  black 
steed  was  a  magnificent  animal,  sixteen  hands 
high,  five  years  old,  full  of  fire,  and  seemingly 
infused  with  Sheridan's  spirit.  Every  one 
recognized  the  horse  and  knew  that  he  was 
carrying  his  master  to  the  front  and  to  victory, 
if  victory  were  possible.  Every  one  resolved 
to  follow  such  a  gallant  leader  even  to  death, 
and  whereas  before  all  were  discouraged  and 
many  were  covered  with  conscious  disgrace, 
now  all  were  jubilant  with  hope  and  intent  on 
wiping  out  the  morning's  record  of  demoraliza 
tion  and  retreat.  Pretty  soon  the  shouts 
of  the  newly  inspirited  stragglers  reached  the 
anxious  line  of  battle,  where  the  heroic  cavalry, 
with  General  Getty's  division  of  the  Sixth 


174      FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND  PRISON 

Corps,  were  making  a  stand  against  the  enemy. 
When  Sheridan  and  his  foam-flecked  charger 
wheeled  from  the  pike  and  galloped  down  in 
front  of  these  serried  ranks,  they  at  once  broke 
into  the  most  tumultuous  enthusiasm.  General 
Torbert,  not  satisfied  with  the  formal  soldier's 
salute,  rode  up  exultingly  and  exclaimed, 
"My  God,  I'm  glad  you've  come!"  Such 
scenes  as  his  coming  produced  and  such  emo 
tions  as  it  awakened  are  not  realized  once  in  a 
century.  There  was  immediately  a  revulsion 
of  feeling  from  doubt  and  almost  despair  to 
faith  and  almost  triumph.  As  Sheridan  rode 
along,  whole  lines  of  battle-flags  rose  up  as  if 
out  of  the  ground.  "General,  we're  glad  to  see 
you,"  was  the  welcome  frequently  shouted 
to  him.  "Well,  I'm  glad  to  be  here,"  was 
the  cheerful  response.  One  group  of  officers — 
deserted  by  their  men — had  clung  to  their 
regimental  colors,  and  waved  them  in  the  air 
to  greet  him.  Sheridan  recognized  one  of 
these  as  Colonel  Hayes,  afterwards  President 
of  the  United  States,  and  then  as  always 
utterly  faithful.  For  two  hours,  from  ten 
o'clock  till  noon,  Sheridan  rode  up  and  down 
inspiriting  the  men  and  re-forming  their  broken 
lines.  He  ordered  General  Wright  to  bring  up 
the  Nineteenth  Corps  and  the  two  divisions 
of  the  Sixth  Corps  that  had  been  halted  in 


IN  THE  CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  175 

the  rear  of  Getty's  division,  and  to  form  them 
on  Getty's  right.  Then  he  sent  Major 
Forsythe  to  Getty's  left  to  inquire  of  Lowell  if 
he  could  hold  on  there,  and  Lowell  gallantly 
said  he  could.  Sheridan  then  sent  Custer's 
division  back  to  the  right  flank,  ordered  General 
Wright  to  take  his  old  command  the  Sixth 
Corps,  and,  accepting  the  suggestion  of  Major 
Forsythe,  rode  along  in  front  of  the  whole  of  the 
new  line  of  battle,  that  his  men  who  had  only 
heard  of  his  return  might  see  him  and  take  new 
courage.  It  was  about  noon  when  Sheridan 
observed  that  Early  was  getting  ready  to 
assault,  and  to  meet  it  he  strengthened  the 
Nineteenth  Corps  with  Getty's  division  of 
the  Sixth.  Early's  victorious  army  moved 
forward  in  magnificent  order,  utterly  confident 
that  they  would  now  wipe  out  the  remnant  of 
Sheridan's  troopers;  but  they  did  not  measure 
rightly  the  reinforcement  that  one  man  had 
brought.  With  this  fresh  alliance  the  Nine 
teenth  Corps  bravely  stood  its  ground  and 
repelled  Early's  impetuous  assault.  Sheridan 
now  rested  his  men  and  waited  till  the  fugitives 
of  the  morning  could  get  back  to  the  front. 
Meanwhile,  fearing  that  Early  might  also  be 
reinforced  by  the  expected  arrival  of  Long- 
street,  Sheridan  ordered  Merritt  to  take  a  small 
body  of  his  cavalry  on  the  extreme  left  of  the 


176      FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND  PRISON 

line,  and  charge  upon  an  exposed  battery  of 
the  enemy  and  capture  some  prisoners.  This 
was  at  once  done  and  the  prisoners  assured 
Sheridan  that  Longstreet  had  not  arrived. 
The  way  was  now  clear  for  Sheridan  to  take  the 
offensive.  At  about  half-past  three  the  order 
was  given  for  an  advance  along  the  whole  line 
of  infantry,  the  cavalry  being  held  back  for 
a  charge  after  the  Rebel  line  should  be  broken. 
It  happened,  however,  that  the  left  of  the 
Rebel  infantry  line  overlapped  our  right,  so 
that  for  a  few  moments  disaster  threatened 
in  the  shape  of  this  flanking  column  of  the 
enemy.  But  in  this  Sheridan  saw  his  oppor 
tunity  and  ordered  a  charge  against  the  open 
angle  of  the  Rebel  line.  "That  order,"  says 
Colonel  Whitaker,  "was  the  death-knell  of  the 
Confederacy."  It  cut  off  the  flanking  column, 
while  a  general  advance  swept  back  the  rest  of 
the  Rebel  army. 

"Now  in  the  tumult  of  the  battle's  van 
Shone  Fortune's  darling,  mounted  Sheridan. 
Rapid  to  plan  and  peerless  in  the  fight, 
He  plucked  Fame's  chaplet  as  by  sovereign  right; 
Emerged  triumphant  from  a  wild  retreat, 
And  blazoned  victory's  colors  on  defeat." 

Sheridan  was  everywhere.  He  had  mounted 
a  fresh  horse  just  before  this  final  charge,  and 
galloped  from  one  place  to  another  wherever 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  177 

his  men  needed  stimulus  or  direction.  While 
he  was  watching  the  charge  of  the  infantry 
that  cut  off  the  flanking  column  of  the  enemy, 
Custer,  who  was  about  to  charge  and  gobble 
them  up,  delayed  a  moment  to  dash  up  to 
Sheridan  and  hug  and  kiss  him  in  his  rapturous 
delight.  Sheridan  says,  "I  forgave  him  the 
delay,  as  he  at  once  swooped  down  upon  the 
enemy  and  took  many  of  them  prisoners." 
The  rout  was  utter.  Not  only  did  Sheridan 
regain  the  camps  from  which  Wright  had  been 
driven  in  the  morning,  but  he  captured  the 
lost  guns,  and  besides  all  of  Early's  camp 
equipage,  caissons,  artillery,  ambulances,  and 
thousands  of  prisoners,  among  them  Major 
General  Ramseur. 

Thus  in  thirty  days,  by  three  brilliant 
victories,  Sheridan  had  almost  annihilated  an 
army  of  twenty  thousand  men,  having  captured 
thirteen  thousand  prisoners,  a  hundred  pieces 
of  artillery,  and  thousands  of  small  arms.  In 
the  last  battle  he  had  by  his  personal  magnetism 
and  all-conquering  energy  turned  back  the 
overwhelming  flood  of  defeat  and  lifted  the 
whole  army  on  a  refluent  wave  of  victory 
that  engulfed  the  shattered  remnants  of  Con 
federate  resistance,  and  raised  the  trembling 
hopes  of  patriots  throughout  the  land  to  a 
vantage-ground  of  confidence  and  security. 


178      FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND  PRISON 

"Hurrah!  hurrah,  for  Sheridan! 
Hurrah!  hurrah,  for  horse  and  man! 
And  when  their  statues  are  placed  on  high 
Under  the  dome  of  the  Union  sky — 
The  American  soldier's  Temple  of  Fame — 
There,  with  the  glorious  General's  name, 
Be  it  said  in  letters  both  bold  and  bright, — 
Here  is  the  steed  that  saved  the  day 
By  carrying  Sheridan  into  the  fight 
From  Winchester,  twenty  miles  away." 

This  ride  of  twenty  miles  is  a  poetic  license 
for  about  twelve  miles — the  distance  between 
Winchester  and  Middletown.  But  Rienzi  car 
ried  his  master  more  than  twenty  miles  that 
day  in  his  mad  galloping  back  and  forth  along 
the  line  of  battle  and  in  the  personal  visits  to 
various  sections  of  the  command.  Rienzi  was 
christened  "Winchester"  after  this  battle. 
He  carried  his  master  through  ninety  engage 
ments,  but  though  he  survived  the  war  thirteen 
years  and  reached  the  age  of  nineteen,  Sheridan 
never  mounted  him  after  the  war,  but  com 
mitted  him  to  a  faithful  groom  with  direc 
tions  to  surround  him  with  all  the  care  and 
comfort  that  his  faithful  services  deserved. 
The  noble  animal  died  in  1878  and  Sheridan 
told  me  that  he  had  ordered  his  skin  to  be 
stuffed  for  preservation. 

Of  course  this  victory  of  Cedar  Creek  and 
Sheridan's  wonderful  personal  achievement  of 


IN  THE  CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  179 

re-creating  an  army  out  of  a  broken,  dispirited 
mob  of  flying  fugitives  electrified  the  whole 
country.  General  Grant  ordered  a  salute  of 
one  hundred  guns,  President  Lincoln  wrote  to 
Sheridan  a  letter  of  thanks,  and  in  a  few  days 
he  was  promoted  to  the  major  generalship 
made  vacant  by  General  McClellan's  resigna 
tion.  This  victory  closed  the  campaign  of  the 
Shenandoah. 

Let  us  now  turn  aside  for  a  few  moments  to 
meditate  upon  something  of  the  price  that  must 
be  paid  for  such  a  victory,  and  to  speak  of  one 
only  among  the  many  who  gladly  gave  their 
lives  that  we  might  enjoy  ours  in  peace;  one, 
however,  whom  none  could  surpass  in  the 
preciousness  of  the  voluntary  offering  or  the 
completeness  of  the  heroic  sacrifice. 

I  have  already  told  how  my  gallant  Colonel, 
in  this  month's  campaign  in  which  he  was 
every  day  under  fire,  seemed  to  bear  a  charmed 
life,  having  had  thirteen  horses  shot  under  him — 
one  of  them  struck  in  seven  places — and  his 
clothes  riddled  with  bullets.  He  had  not 
himself  been  touched  till  the  third  charge  in 
the  Battle  of  Cedar  Creek,  when  a  spent  ball 
for  a  moment  took  away  his  breath  and  after 
wards  left  him  voiceless.  General  Torbert 
urged  that  he  be  taken  from  the  field.  But 
Lowell  whispered:  "No!  It  is  only  my  poor 


l8o     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

lung.  I  have  not  lost  a  drop  of  blood  yet. 
I  want  to  lead  in  the  final  charge. "  So  a  little 
parapet  of  earth  was  thrown  up  to  shield  him 
from  the  bullets  of  the  enemy,  and  he  lay  there 
motionless  for  two  hours,  having  exacted  a 
promise  that  he  should  be  told  when  the  charge 
was  ordered.  This  came  about  three  o'clock. 
Then,  though  too  weak  to  mount  his  horse 
without  assistance,  he  said,  "I  am  well,  now/' 
and  allowed  his  faithful  men  to  lift  him  into 
the  saddle,  and  he  rode  to  the  front  amid  the 
cheers  of  his  troops.  Then  his  strength  rose 
with  the  occasion,  and  though  the  death  flush 
was  on  his  cheeks  he  rode  firm  and  erect  as 
ever,  and  though  he  could  only  whisper  his 
commands  to  his  aids,  all  saw  by  the  pointing 
of  his  sword  that  he  meant  Forward  to  victory 
or  death. 

Just  as  they  were  in  the  thickest  of  the  fight, 
Lowell — still  leading  on  his  men — was  pierced 
by  a  bullet  from  shoulder  to  shoulder  and  fell 
into  the  arms  of  his  aids.  Yet  even  thus  he 
would  not  check  the  vigor  of  the  assault,  but 
allowed  himself  to  be  carried  forward  in  the 
track  of  his  rapidly  advancing  brigade  till  he 
reached  the  village  of  Middletown  and  saw  that 
the  battle  was  won.  Then  he  lay  down  upon 
his  death-couch  as  calmly  as  to  a  night's  repose, 
and,  though  partially  paralyzed,  he  remained 


IN  THE  CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  181 

for  a  time  conscious,  and  gave  minute  direc 
tions  about  the  business  of  his  command, 
dictated  some  private  messages  of  affection, 
and  twice  directed  his  surgeon  to  leave  him  to 
look  to  the  wounds  of  other  officers  and  of 
some  wounded  prisoners  whose  cries  of  pain 
he  overheard,  and  then  quietly  and  contendedly 
went  to  sleep  and  waked  no  more  on  earth. 

I  need  hardly  say  that  Charles  t  Russell 
Lowell  was  the  most  brilliant  officer  I  ever  met. 
He  was  one  of  an  eminently  patriotic  family, 
of  whose  members  eight,  under  thirty  years  of 
age,  were  killed  in  the  war.  Life  opened  for 
him  with  exceptional  promise.  In  his  college 
class  he  was  pre-eminent  above  all  rivalry, 
yet,  while  marvellously  apt  in  the  direction 
of  literature  and  philosophy,  his  stronger 
bent  was  towards  the  mechanic  arts  and  prac 
tical  life,  and  in  this  direction  he  easily  and 
quickly  attained  high  responsibilities,  and  the 
breaking  out  of  the  war  found  him  managing 
the  Mount  Savage  Iron  Works  at  Cumberland, 
Md.,  but  on  hearing  of  the  attack  in  Baltimore 
upon  the  Massachusetts  troops  he  dropped  his 
work  instantly  and  took  the  first  train  for  that 
city.  There  he  decided  to  offer  his  services 
to  the  government,  and,  as  railway  and  tele 
graphic  communication  with  Washington  was 
cut  off,  he  set  out  on  foot,  and  by  devious  paths 


1 82      FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

and  shrewd  stratagems  made  his  way  to  the 
Capital,  reaching  it  only  two  days  after  the 
attack  in  Baltimore.  With  keen,  prophetic 
eye  he  saw  that  the  struggle  must  be  a  long 
one,  but  with  wise  judgment  and  characteristic 
modesty  he  chose  to  learn  the  art  of  war  from 
the  beginning,  and  applied  for  the  lowest 
office  in  the  Regular  Artillery.  While  waiting 
for  his  commission,  he  busied  himself  with 
organizing  means  for  the  care  of  Massachusetts 
troops  and  for  gathering  military  stores,  and 
found  time  to  scout  beyond  our  lines  and 
inspect  the  preparations  of  the  Confederates. 

I  think  it  was  a  good  fortune  that  turned 
Lowell  to  the  cavalry  service.  I  can  hardly 
imagine  his  being  satisfied  with  any  less 
venturous  command.  He  was  a  born  cavalier, 
high-spirited,  quick,  flashing  his  plans  into 
instant  orders  and  pushing  his  orders  to  prompt 
execution;  yet,  with  all  this  dashing,  chivalrous 
spirit,  he  was  always  calm  and  self-possessed. 
Some  one  in  authority,  seeing  these  traits, 
offered  Lowell  a  captaincy  in  the  Sixth  United 
States  Cavalry,  and  he  instantly  accepted,  and 
soon  made  himself  such  a  master  of  the  tactics 
that  his  Colonel  regarded  him  as  "the  best 
officer  appointed  from  civil  life,  that  he  had 
ever  known." 

His  regiment  fought  under  General  Stoneman 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  183 

through  the  Peninsula  Campaign,  and  Lowell 
was  constantly  in  action,  and  for  distinguished 
service  at  Williamsburg  and  Slatersville  was 
nominated  for  the  brevet  of  Major.  His 
brother  James,  referring  to  the  affair  at  Slaters 
ville,  writes:  "Charley  was  charging,  and  came 
upon  a  man  who  was  aiming  a  double-barrelled 
carbine  at  him.  Charley  called  out  to  him, 
'Drop  that!'  and  he  lowered  it  enough  to  blow 
to  pieces  Charley's  coat,  which  was  strapped 
on  his  saddle  behind  him."  His  fellow-officers 
recall  many  such  instances  of  the  irresistible 
power  of  his  commands. 

On  the  loth  of  July,  1862,  Lowell  was  ordered 
to  the  staff  of  General  McClellan,  where  he 
remained  till  November,  achieving  marvels  of 
energetic  devotion  to  perilous  duties,  and  seem 
ing  to  bear  a  charmed  life  in  the  hottest  actions. 
In  the  Battle  of  Antietam  he  enacted  the 
miracle  that  Sheridan  repeated  on  a  larger 
scale  at  Cedar  Creek.  Sent  with  orders  to 
General  Sedgwick's  division,  Lowell  found  it 
recoiling  in  confusion  under  a  hot  fire.  He  at 
once  set  himself  to  check  the  retreat.  He 
seemed  to  fly  from  point  to  point,  his  eyes 
flashed  fire,  his  voice  shouted  defiance,  his 
sword  pointed  towards  the  foe,  his  horse  caught 
his  master's  spirit,  and  they  two,  as  one,  put 
new  courage  into  the  flying  troops,  and  so 


1 84     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

checked  the  rout  which  threatened  disaster  to 
the  right  of  the  Union  line.  Shortly  after, 
Lowell's  horse,  pierced  with  seven  bullets, 
fell  under  him,  while  a  rifle  ball  passed  through 
his  own  coat  and  another  broke  the  scabbard 
of  his  sabre.  In  recognition  of  his  gallantry 
in  this  battle,  Lowell  was  intrusted  by  General 
McClellan  with  the  office  of  bearing  to  Wash 
ington,  and  presenting  to  President  Lincoln, 
the  thirty-nine  standards  captured  in  that 
campaign. 

In  November,  1862,  Lowell  was  ordered  to 
report  to  Governor  Andrew,  and  was  com 
missioned  as  Colonel  to  organize  the  Second 
Massachusetts  Cavalry,  and  was  engaged  in 
this  service  till  May,  1863,  when  he  took  his 
regiment  to  Washington,  and  was  assigned  to 
the  command  of  all  the  cavalry  of  the  depart 
ment,  with  headquarters  at  Vienna.  Here 
was  spent  the  winter  of  1863-64,  in  the  very 
unpleasant  but  very  responsible  service  of 
guarding  a  line  of  thirty  or  forty  miles  of  the 
exposed  front  of  Washington  from  the  incur 
sions  of  Mosby's  Partisan  Rangers  and  other 
unorganized  guerrillas.  To  do  this  effectually, 
Lowell  made  constant  counter-incursions — some 
of  which  I  have  already  detailed — into  the  sur 
rounding  country,  and  broke  up  the  haunts  of 
the  guerrillas  wherever  his  scouts  discovered 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  185 

their  camps.  Though  the  country  was  neces 
sarily  unfamiliar  to  him,  and  almost  every 
engagement  was  with  unknown  forces  in  their 
own  chosen  positions,  he  never  hesitated  to 
dash  right  up  to  their  intrenchments,  and  by 
the  boldness  of  his  onset  seldom  failed  to  strike 
confusion  into  their  ranks.  The  movements  of 
Lowell's  thought  were  like  flashes  of  lightning. 
He  took  in  the  situation  by  a  seemingly  in 
tuitive  discernment.  He  knew  not  only  how 
he  should  deploy  his  own  troops,  but  how  the 
enemy  would  deploy  theirs.  Orderlies  would 
dash  up  to  him  in  the  thick  of  battle  from 
various  sections  of  his  extended  lines,  reporting 
an  advance  here  and  a  retreat  there,  and  his 
frequent  response  was:  "I  know  it.  I  have 
given  the  necessary  orders."  In  the  wild 
whirl  of  battle  his  eyes  glistened  with  flashing 
thought,  and  his  face  shone  with  keen  intelli 
gence.  Horse  and  rider  seemed  one  being, 
instinct  with  bounding  life.  As  Shakespeare 
says  of  the  Norman  Horseman:  "This  gallant 
had  witchcraft  in  his  riding.  He  grew  into 
his  seat,  and  to  such  wondrous  doing  brought 
his  horse  as  he  had  been  incorpsed  with  the 
brave  beast."  Lowell  had  travelled  much  on 
horseback  in  pursuit  of  health,  and  in  Algiers 
his  equestrian  skill  had  excited  the  admira 
tion  even  of  the  Arabs.  He  had  a  closely  knit, 


1 86      FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

wiry  frame  and  a  light  delicate  figure,  and  his 
intense  vitality  and  exhaustless  energy  achieved 
what  seemed  impossible  to  others.  I  have 
followed  him  wearily  sixty  miles  in  a  day  and 
he  has  come  in  at  night  seemingly  as  fresh  as 
when  he  set  out.  He  was  easily  the  first  in 
anything  to  which  he  laid  his  hand.  He  had 
studied  carefully  the  military  systems  of  the 
European  nations  and  so  was  a  master  in  the 
science,  as  well  as  the  art,  of  war.  His  Reserve 
Brigade  was  admitted  by  many  to  have  been 
the  most  superb  body  of  cavalry  in  the  service. 
He  could  lead  them  anywhere.  With  the  regu 
lars  of  his  command  it  may  have  been  the 
prompt  obedience  of  discipline,  but  with  the 
Massachusetts  Volunteers  it  was  the  perfect 
obedience  of  trust.  He  was  always  ready  to 
expose  himself  when  the  occasion  demanded, 
and  once  with  his  own  sabre  he  cut  down  a 
Rebel  who  stretched  out  his  hand  to  seize  a 
color. 

Yet,  with  all  this  overflowing  energy  of 
action,  Lowell  had  a  deep  repose  of  thought,  and 
delighted  in  nothing  more  than  in  philosophic 
contemplations.  How  often  on  the  march,  in 
scouts  after  guerrillas,  and  even  in  the  near 
presence  of  danger,  have  I  listened  with  wonder 
to  his  subtle  speculations  in  metaphysics,  and 
his  keen  insights  in  social  science!  He  kept 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  187 

always  his  refined  taste  and  his  scholarly  habit. 
He  dwelt  always  in  the  purest  atmosphere  of 
high  thought  and  delicate  feeling.  Few  men 
have  combined  so  many  talents  of  such  brilliant 
lustre.  Few  men  sacrificed  so  much  that  was 
fascinating  in  liberal  studies  and  refined  activi 
ties,  for  the  rough  pursuits  of  war.  The  soldier's 
life  had  for  him  no  attractions  other  than  the 
fulfilment  of  a  high  ideal  of  service  to  his 
country  and  humanity.  Yet  no  one  surpassed 
him  in  soldierly  qualities,  whether  in  prompt 
movement  and  fearless  daring  or  in  tactical 
skill  and  readiness  for  emergencies. 

"I  do  not  think  a  braver  gentleman, 
More  active  valiant  or  more  valiant  young, 
More  daring  or  more  bold,  hath  ever  lived 
To  grace  the  world  with  noble  deeds." 

His  virtues  were  not  without  distinguished 
recognition.  A  high  official  said,  "I  do  not 
think  there  was  any  officer  in  all  the  army  so 
much  beloved  as  Lowell."  "We  all  shed  tears," 
said  Custer,  uwhen  we  knew  we  had  lost  him. 
It  is  the  greatest  loss  the  Cavalry  Corps  ever 
suffered."  Major  General  Torbert — the  leader 
of  the  Cavalry  Corps — says  in  his  official  re 
port:  "Thus  the  service  lost  one  of  the  most 
gallant  and  accomplished  soldiers.  He  was  the 
beau-ideal  of  a  cavalry  officer,  and  his  memory 


188      FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

will  never  die  in  the  command."  Said  General 
Sheridan:  "I  do  not  think  there  was  a  quality 
I  could  have  added  to  Lowell.  He  was  the 
perfection  of  a  man  and  a  soldier.  /  could 
have  been  better  spared." 

His  commission  as  Brigadier  General  of  Vol 
unteers — "for  gallant  and  meritorious  services 
at  the  Battles  of  Winchester  and  Fishers  Hill" 
— was  signed  only  the  day  before  his  death, 
too  late  for  him  to  wear  the  honors  that  he  had 
earned  so  well;  but  he  wears  the  immortal 
glory  of  his  heroic  devotion,  and  he  can  well 
spare  the  sounding  titles  that  echo  our  mortal 
praise. 

"He  in  warm  life-blood  wrote  a  nobler  verse" 
Than  poets  sing,  or  tuneful  lips  rehearse; 

"Lived  battle-odes  whose  lines  were  steel  and  fire, 
And  shaped  in  squadron-strophes  his  desire." 

In  a  niche  at  the  west  end  of  Memorial  Hall 
in  Cambridge  is  a  marble  bust  of  Charles  Russell 
Lowell  sculptured  by  Daniel  C.  French.  Upon 
the  bracket  that  supports  the  bust  is  carved 
in  wood  the  descriptive  motto — "A  knightly 
soldier,  bravely  dead,"  and  upon  the  panel 
beneath  the  bracket  is  cast  in  bronze  the  in 
scription — "Charles  Russell  Lowell,  born  at 
Boston,  Jan.  2,  1835,  graduated  at  Cambridge, 
1854,  Captain  6th  U.  S.  Cavalry  May  14, 


IN  THE  CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  189 

1861,  Colonel  2nd  Mass.  Cavalry,  April  15, 
1863,  Brigadier  General  of  Volunteers,  Oct. 
19,  1864.  After  thirteen  horses  had  been  shot 
under  him,  he  received  his  mortal  wound  at 
Cedar  Creek  Oct.  19,  1864,  and  never  wore  his 


star." 


Beneath  these  words  is  the  shield  of  the 
University  Seal  with  its  motto  "Veritas,"  and 
then  follow  these  lines  from  James  Russell 
Lowell's  Commemoration  Ode: — 

"He  followed  Truth  and  found  her 
With  danger's  sweetness  round  her; 
So  loved  her  that  he  died  for  her." 

At  the  bottom — with  the  date  1885 — are 
these  words:  "This  bust  is  the  gift  of  his 
fellow-officers  of  the  2nd  Mass.  Cav.,  and 
other  admirers  of  his  brilliant  leadership,  his 
heroic  gallantry  and  his  self-sacrificing  Pat 
riotism." 

James  Russell  Lowell  wrote  me  under  date 
July  16,  1885:  "I  looked  at  the  bust  of  my 
nephew  on  Commencement  Day  and  thought 
it  very  good.  The  pose  of  the  head  struck  me 
as  particularly  characteristic.  What  touched 
me  most  of  all  in  looking  at  it,  however,  was 
the  pious  and  affectionate  impulse  that  had 
wrought  with  you  in  having  it  done. 

"As  to  the  verses  for  the  inscription,  I  have 


190      FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

been  hoping  that  some  would  come  to  me  that 
I  should  like  better  than  those  you  have  chosen. 
But  as  yet  I  am  like  an  augur  gaping  in  vain 
for  the  birds  that  will  not  come.  Perhaps  some 
fine  day  I  may  be  luckier." 

That  day  never  came,  and  Lowell  suggested 
that  I  take  some  lines  from  Emerson,  but  it 
seemed  to  me  more  fitting  to  take  them  from 
that  Ode  which  is  the  finest  literary  monu 
ment  not  only  of  the  poet  himself  but  of  the 
heroes  whom  he  commemorated. 

Because  Lowell's  star  as  Brigadier  General 
did  not  reach  him  before  his  death,  I  suggested 
to  the  sculptor  to  put  it  in  a  spray  of  laurel 
under  his  bust,  and  there  it  may  be  seen  in 
Note  12. 

After  the  Battle  of  Cedar  Creek  nothing  of 
importance  occurred  in  the  Valley  till  Novem 
ber  27th,  when  General  Merritt,  the  com 
mander  of  our  division  of  cavalry,  received  this 
order  from  General  Sheridan:  "You  are  hereby 
directed  to  take  your  command  beyond  the 
Blue  Ridge  by  way  of  Ashby's  and  Snicker's 
Gaps,  and  operate  against  the  guerrillas  in  the 
region  between  Rectortown  and  the  Potomac, 
and  between  the  Blue  Ridge  and  the  Bull  Run 
mountains.  This  section  has  been  the  hot 
bed  of  lawless  bands  who  have  from  time  to 
time  depredated  upon  small  parties  on  the 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  191 

line  of  our  communications,  and  upon  safe 
guards  left  at  houses.  Their  real  object  is 
plunder  and  highway  robbery.  To  clear  the 
country  of  these  parties,  you  will  consume  and 
destroy  all  forage  and  subsistence,  burn  all 
barns  and  mills  and  their  contents,  and  drive 
off  all  the  live-stock.  This  order  must  be 
literally  executed,  bearing  in  mind,  however, 
that  no  dwellings  are  to  be  burned,  and  that 
no  personal  violence  be  offered  the  citizens. 
The  responsibility  for  this  destruction  must 
rest  with  the  authorities  at  Richmond  who 
have  acknowledged  the  legitimacy  of  guerrilla 
bands." 

This  necessity  of  destruction  is  one  of  the 
many  dark  phases  of  war.  As  we  descended 
the  eastern  slope  of  the  Blue  Ridge,  nothing 
could  be  more  beautiful  than  that  garden  of 
Virginia  flanked  on  the  further  side  by  the 
Bull  Run  mountains.  It  is  one  of  the  richest 
counties  in  cattle  and  pasturage,  with  splendid 
stock  in  horses  and  sheep.  It  fell  to  the  lot  of 
our  brigade  to  go  through  the  beautiful  Valley 
between  Loudon  Heights  and  the  Short  Hills, 
and  flankers  were  sent  out  so  as  to  sweep  the 
whole  Valley.  Some  idea  of  the  general  de 
struction  may  be  formed  when  I  relate  that  in 
one  day  two  regiments  of  our  brigade  burned 
more  than  one  hundred  and  fifty  barns,  a 


192      FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

thousand  stacks  of  hay,  and  six  flour-mills, 
besides  driving  off  fifty  horses  and  three  hundred 
head  of  cattle.  This  was  the  most  unpleasant 
task  we  were  ever  compelled  to  undertake.  It 
was  heart-piercing  to  hear  the  shrieks  of 
women  and  children,  and  to  see  even  men  cry 
ing  and  beating  their  breasts,  supplicating  for 
mercy  on  bended  knees,  begging  that  at  least 
one  cow — an  only  support — might  be  left. 
But  no  mercy  was  allowed.  Orders  must  be 
obeyed.  All  that  could  subsist  guerrillas  must 
be  destroyed.  If  citizens  would  not  of  them 
selves  cease  harboring  guerrillas,  then  we  must 
compel  them  to  desist  in  the  only  way  open 
to  us.  It  was  a  terrible  retribution  on  the 
county  that  had  for  three  years  supported 
and  lodged  the  guerrilla  bands  and  sent  them 
out  to  plunder  and  murder. 

In  this  expedition  I  got  even  with  the  Con 
federacy  on  the  score  of  horses,  and  made  up 
for  the  one  the  guerrillas  had  taken  from  me 
when  I  was  captured  in  July,  by  securing  a 
young  but  very  fine  animal,  tall  and  graceful, 
and  with  a  very  dainty  step,  as  if  dancing  to 
music,  and  she  carried  me  to  the  end  of  the 
war. 

Our  winter  camp  in  the  Shenandoah  Valley 
was  not  permanently  fixed  till  the  middle  of 
December;  and  horses  and  men  were  com- 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  193 

pelled  to  endure  great  hardships  from  exposure 
to  wind  and  cold.  Our  brigade  was  employed 
to  guard  the  construction  corps  that  was  en 
gaged  in  rebuilding  the  railroad  from  Harpers 
Ferry  to  Winchester. 

When  we  were  stationed  at  Charlestown,  the 
dreary  monotony  of  our  regular  rations  of 
hard-tack  and  pork  was  for  a  single  occasion 
delightfully  varied  by  an  elegant  breakfast 
at  the  house  of  George  Lafayette  Washington, 
a  great-grand-nephew  of  the  "Father  of  his 
Country."  His  good  lady  entertained  a  few 
of  the  officers  of  my  regiment  with  Southern 
profuseness,  setting  before  us  hoe-cakes  and 
corn  cakes  in  almost  endless  variety,  with  honey 
and  apple-butter  to  make  them  still  more 
appetizing,  and  cider  to  make  them  more 
grateful.  Since  the  war,  our  hostess  of  that 
occasion  has  been  compelled  by  the  impoverish 
ment  of  her  resources  to  part  with  the  medal 
presented  to  George  Washington,  March  27, 
1776,  by  the  Continental  Congress  in  com 
memoration  of  the  evacuation  of  Boston  by 
the  British.  Some  wealthy  and  patriotic  citi 
zens  of  Boston  contributed  five  thousand  dollars 
for  the  purchase  of  this  precious  family  heir 
loom,  that  it  might  be  preserved  in  the  city 
that  owed  its  safety  to  Washington's  military 
skill. 


194     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

Our  camp  at  Charlestown  was  on  ground 
made  historic  not  only  by  its  former  owner 
ship  by  Charles,  the  younger  brother  of  George 
Washington,  and  by  having  been  for  a  time 
the  resting-place  of  Braddock's  boastful  army, 
but  also  by  the  trial  and  execution  here  of 
John  Brown.  The  house  in  which  we  were 
entertained  was  once  the  home  of  Samuel 
Washington,  elder  brother  of  George,  and 
many  men  known  to  fame  have  enjoyed  its 
hospitality,  among  them  Louis  Philippe — after 
wards  King  of  France — and  his  younger  brothers 
the  Duke  de  Montpensier  and  the  Count  de 
Beaujolaix. 

The  rest  of  the  winter  would  have  been 
passed  quietly  in  the  Valley  but  for  the  desire 
of  General  Grant  to  have  the  railroads  about 
Gordonsville  destroyed.  To  this  end  we  were 
awakened  at  half-past  four  o'clock  on  the  I9th 
of  December — a  cold,  dismal,  rainy  morning — 
and  ordered  to  put  up  four  days'  rations  and 
forage,  and  to  be  ready  to  move  at  6.  The 
expedition  consisted  of  two  divisions  of  cavalry 
— Merritt's  and  Powell's,  in  all  about  five 
thousand  men,  and  twenty-four  wagons — and 
made  a  column  about  five  miles  long,  under 
the  command  of  General  Torbert.  My  regi 
ment  led  the  advance  the  first  day,  and  we 
took  the  direction  of  Front  Royal.  It  was  a 


IX  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  195 

very  picturesque  sight  to  look  back  from  some 
commanding  hill  and  see  the  column  winding 
like  an  immense  serpent  through  the  Valley. 
After  we  passed  Front  Royal  we  began  to 
ascend  the  western  slope  of  the  Blue  Ridge, 
and  when  we  had  penetrated  about  half-way 
through  Chester  Gap,  we  were  halted  for  the 
night.  And  such  a  night!  A  bleaker  camp 
could  not  be  imagined.  The  winter  as  a  whole 
was  exceptionally  severe  for  Virginia,  snow 
falling  frequently,  and  the  mercury  sinking 
sometimes  to  zero.  It  was  excruciating  at  the 
climax  of  this  inclement  season  to  be  perched 
at  the  top  of  a  pass  in  the  Blue  Ridge  and  to 
face  the  icy  blasts  as  they  sucked  and  swirled 
through  the  narrow  gorge.  We  made  a  large 
fire  of  logs,  and  after  a  supper  of  hard-bread 
and  coffee,  lay  down  upon  blankets,  with  our 
saddles  for  pillows,  and  our  feet  towards  the 
fire,  which  the  guard  was  directed  to  keep 
bright.  I  was  so  weary  with  the  long  day  that 
I  slept  from  nine  to  twelve  o'clock,  when  the 
extreme  cold  awakened  me.  I  got  up  and 
paced  back  and  forth  for  an  hour  trying  to  get 
warm;  but  I  could  not,  the  wind  was  so  pierc 
ing.  So  I  huddled  up  again  under  the  blankets 
as  near  as  possible  to  the  fire;  but,  do  my 
best,  the  wind  would  creep  in,  and  blew  away 
all  sleep.  I  never  appreciated  so  keenly  how 


196     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND  PRISON 

eager  must  be  their  waiting  that  is  said  to  be 
"more  than  they  that  watch  for  the  morning." 
It  seemed  as  if  the  cold  Pleiads  would  never 
set.  Reveille  at  5  was  a  relief, — anything 
rather  than  stay  longer  upon  those  cold  heights 
in  the  clouds.  We  descended  the  eastern 
slope  of  the  Blue  Ridge,  and  were  soon  in  a 
warmer  atmosphere.  Our  course  was  now 
south-west,  right  under  the  Ridge  and  hugging 
it  all  the  way.  We  made  about  thirty-five 
miles  between  sunrise  and  sunset,  halting  for 
ten  minutes  every  two  hours.  That  night  it 
threatened  rain,  and  I  went  in  with  the  Major 
under  a  shelter-tent,  and  had  a  good  sleep  till 
4.30,  when  to  our  great  surprise  we  waked  to 
find  four  inches  of  snow  on  the  ground.  My 
surprise  was  soon  turned  to  dismay  when  I 
found  that  my  mare  Loudon — whom  I  had 
named  after  the  county  of  her  birth — was  so 
stiff  from  yesterday's  exertion  and  from  lying 
on  the  cold,  wet  ground,  that  she  could  hardly 
move.  I  was  afraid  every  moment  that  she 
would  give  out,  and  then  what  could  I  do? 
Early  in  the  day  the  storm  changed  from  snow 
to  sleet  and  then  to  a  very  cold  rain,  and  as 
we  dismounted  to  rest  our  horses  we  wet  our 
feet  and  could  not  get  them  warm  again.  We 
halted  at  four  o'clock  on  the  summit  of  one 
of  a  circle  of  hills  encompassing  the  town  of 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  197 

Criglersville,  and  there  I  beheld  the  grandest 
cloud-scenery  that  I  had  ever  witnessed.  The 
whole  valley  was  a  vast  amphitheatre  in  the 
hills,  whose  sides  and  summits  were  heavily 
hung  with  thick  clouds  big  with  storm  and 
tempest.  The  firmament  above  our  heads 
was  perfectly  clear,  and  we  stood  upon  the  one 
elevation  of  all  around  that  was  open  to  the 
eye  of  heaven.  It  was  very  grand,  but  I  have 
enjoyed  the  pictured  memory  of  it  more  than 
I  did  the  actual  sight,  as  I  was  suffering  so 
much  from  the  cold,  and  was  so  anxious  about 
my  horse.  I  was  frightened  to  think  of  having 
to  walk  the  rest  of  the  journey,  as  many  were 
already  dismounted  from  like  cause,  and  were 
wearily  dragging  their  way  through  the  slush 
and  mud,  vainly  trying  to  keep  up  with  the 
fast-passing  column.  As  we  descended  from 
this  summit,  it  grew  colder,  and  before  we  had 
gone  many  miles,  the  ground  was  frozen  and 
our  ears  and  feet  almost  so. 

We  soon  approached  Madison  Court  House, 
and  here  we  first  struck  the  enemy  and  skirm 
ished.  It  was  now  eight  o'clock,  and  our 
brigade  was  drawn  up  in  line  of  battle  for  an 
hour,  waiting  till  our  advance  developed  the 
force  of  the  enemy.  It  was  a  bitterly  cold 
and  most  cheerless  hour.  The  thought  of  the 
night  before  us  was  enough  to  freeze  the  blood. 


198      FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND  PRISON 

But  soon  the  order  came  to  fall  back  into  the 
woods  and  encamp.  Fortunately  it  was  a 
pine  forest  into  which  we  now  entered,  and 
the  thick  boughs  broke  the  force  of  the  wind. 
We  cut  down  small  pine-trees  and  taking  their 
flat-spreading  branches  laid  them  upon  the 
snow  for  a  bed,  and  then  built  a  fire  and  sur 
rounded  ourselves  with  a  barricade  of  boughs 
stuck  in  the  snow.  It  was  eleven  o'clock 
before  we  had  supper,  and  as  we  had  not 
eaten  anything  since  six  in  the  morning,  of 
course  we  were  very  hungry.  That  night  we 
had  a  splendid  sleep.  Pine  boughs  were  as 
grateful  as  mattresses  to  our  chilled  and  tired 
frames.  We  slept  within  two  feet  of  the  fire 
and  so  kept  warm.  Five  hours  of  rest,  and 
reveille  called  us  to  go  again  on  our  journey. 
We  passed  through  Madison  Court  House  and 
took  the  road  to  Gordonsville.  It  was  very 
cold,  and  the  horses  slipped  round  on  the 
frozen  snow  like  hogs  on  ice.  But  we  pressed 
on  to  the  Rapidan,  broke  through  the  ice  and 
forded  the  river,  and  made  a  reconnoissance 
towards  Gordonsville,  driving  in  the  enemy's 
advance  guards  and  capturing  from  Johnson's 
and  McCausland's  brigades  two  pieces  of  artil 
lery.  In  this  way  we  discovered  that  reinforce 
ments  had  already  reached  Gordonsville  from 
Richmond,  and  that  the  place  was  too  strong 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  199 

to  be  attacked.  We  also  learned  that  Whar- 
ton's  division  of  infantry  had  been  detached 
from  Early's  forces  at  Staunton  in  order  to 
check  Torbert,  and  that  they  were  approaching 
by  way  of  Charlottesville.  So  we  were  forced 
to  give  up  the  object  of  the  expedition  and  to 
retreat  as  fast  as  possible.  That  night  we  en 
camped  again  in  the  woods  the  same  way  as 
the  night  before,  only  we  had  become  so  chilled 
through  the  exposures  of  the  day  that  it  was 
almost  impossible  to  get  warm.  The  nearer 
I  got  to  the  fire,  the  more  I  would  shiver.  My 
blood  seemed  curdled  with  the  cold,  and  as  it 
crept  slowly  through  my  veins,  made  me  shake 
in  every  fibre. 

Friday,  December  23 d,  reveille  sounded  at 
5  again,  and,  with  a  breakfast  of  coffee  alone, 
we  started.  Our  rations  and  forage  were  now 
exhausted,  and  for  the  rest  of  our  journey  we 
must  live  on  the  country.  In  the  course  of 
the  day  our  headquarters  forager  brought  in 
two  hams,  a  spare-rib,  and  enough  flour  for 
several  days.  We  marched  until  eleven  o'clock 
that  night,  and  encamped  under  the  cold  light 
of  stars  on  a  side  hill  so  steep  that  we  had  to 
crawl  on  our  hands  and  knees  to  keep  from 
falling.  The  top  of  the  snow  was  frozen  into 
a  hard  crust  which  the  horses'  hoofs  scarcely 
broke.  However  we  made  ourselves  comfort- 


200     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND  PRISON 

able  with  a  log  fire,  a  supper  of  coffee,  ham, 
and  griddle-cakes,  and  a  bed  of  boughs,  and 
after  five  hours  we  started  again. 

Our  regimental  position  this  day  was  in  the 
rear  of  the  column,  a  very  uncomfortable  place 
to  be  in  when  the  column  is  long  and  the  roads 
are  bad.  There  were  many  places  where  an 
obstruction  or  break  in  the  road  made  it  impos 
sible  for  more  than  two  horses  to  pass  abreast; 
and,  as  we  generally  marched  by  fours,  the 
column  at  such  places  would  be  drawn  out  to 
twice  its  normal  length;  and  if  the  advance 
moved  steadily  it  would  get  away  eight  or 
ten  miles  from  the  rear  at  such  an  obstruction, 
and  then  the  rear  companies,  after  having 
waited  to  let  the  others  pass  the  obstacle,  would 
have  to  gallop  to  close  up  the  column.  Gen 
erally,  however,  at  such  a  place,  the  advance 
waits  for  the  rear  to  catch  up,  as  a  caterpillar 
when  it  meets  an  obstruction  huddles  up, 
fixes  its  tail,  then  lengthens  out  over  the  ob 
stacle,  fixes  its  head  and,  drawing  in  its  length 
ened  body,  huddles  up  again,  and  then  creeps 
on  as  before  with  equal  length.  Besides  this 
unevenness  of  motion,  a  position  in  the  rear  is 
also  unpleasant  from  the  sights  one  has  to  wit 
ness.  On  this  day  we  passed  hundreds  of  horses 
worn  out  by  the  toilsome  march  and  left  dead 
by  the  side  of  the  road;  and  we  kept  passing 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  2OI 

dismounted  men  who  could  not  keep  up  with 
the  column,  some  of  them  with  boots  worn 
through  and  a  few  barefoot  and  leaving  tracks 
of  blood  in  the  frozen  crust.  That  night  we 
got  into  camp  at  nine  o'clock,  cold,  tired,  and 
hungry;  still  we  brightened  up  a  little  to 
think  it  was  Christmas  Eve,  and  that  our  friends 
at  home  were  enjoying  it  in  quiet  comfort  and 
happy  meetings,  even  though  we  could  not 
enjoy  it,  but  must  spread  our  cold  and  cheerless 
tables  in  the  presence  of  those  enemies  who 
otherwise  would  make  our  home  firesides 
cold  and  cheerless  as  our  own. 

Next  day  was  Sunday — December  25th — 
and  as  we  woke,  the  "Merry  Christmas " 
wishes  went  around,  but  always  with  the  added 
wish  for  a  merrier  Christmas  next  year. 

We  forded,  this  day,  the  two  branches  of  the 
Rappahannock,  having  first  to  cut  a  passage 
through  the  ice  that  covered  the  river.  In  our 
march  we  often  had  to  dismount  and  to  lead 
our  horses  down  the  steep  hills,  sliding  with 
them  most  of  the  way.  Their  shoes  were  now 
so  smooth  that  they  with  difficulty  kept  from 
falling  even  on  level  ground.  Our  sufferings 
this  day  from  the  cold  were  very  severe.  Our 
feet  were  almost  frozen,  encased  as  they  were 
in  wet  and  frozen  boots,  and  dangling  in  the 
frosty  air.  There  is  not  sufficient  exercise  in 


202      FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

the  slow  motion  of  a  cavalry  column  to  send 
the  warm  blood  away  down  to  the  feet.  Our 
only  relief  was  a  partial  one  when  the  column 
halted — in  stamping  upon  the  ground. 

Next  day — December  26th — we  passed 
through  Sulphur  Springs,  whose  once  magnifi 
cent  hotel,  where  the  beauty  and  chivalry  of 
Virginia  used  to  gather  and  revel,  was  now  a 
mass  of  ruins,  and  the  place  was  almost  utterly 
deserted.  We  drank  of  the  waters,  without 
however  renewing  our  youth.  In  the  course 
of  this  day  the  column  marched  over  a  part  of 
the  way  along  which  five  months  before  I 
had  wearily  walked  as  a  prisoner,  and  I  noted 
several  places  where  I  had  sunk  down  by  the 
road  exhausted.  It  brought  the  thought  of 
my  deliverance  vividly  home  to  me,  and  cheered 
me  with  thankfulness.  As  we  passed  through 
Warrenton,  General  Torbert  narrowly  escaped 
being  killed  by  a  shot  fired  by  a  guerrilla  from 
some  safe  concealment.  Leaving  Warrenton, 
we  took  the  road  to  White  Plains,  and  went 
into  camp  in  that  region  infested  with  guerrillas. 

Next  day — December  27th — we  marched 
through  Middleburg  and  Upperville,  and  re- 
crossed  the  Blue  Ridge  at  Ashby's  Gap,  being 
fired  upon  several  times  by  guerrillas  concealed 
in  the  woods.  We  forded  the  Shenandoah  with 
difficulty  in  its  winter  flood,  and  went  into 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  203 

camp  on  its  north  bank  at  ten  o'clock.  After 
we  got  asleep  a  heavy  rain  began  to  fall,  and 
I  awoke  at  three  o'clock  to  find  myself  lying  in 
a  puddle  of  water  safely  held  in  the  hollows  of 
my  rubber  blanket.  I  got  up  and  readjusted 
it  and  lay  down  again,  but  was  too  chilled  to 
sleep. 

An  early  breakfast  and  a  short  march  brought 
us  back  to  our  old  camps  near  Winchester, 
thankful  to  have  escaped  from  the  hardships 
and  exposures  of  the  hardest  expedition  of  the 
war  with  only  a  few  painful  reminders  of  it  in 
chilblains,  shivers,  and  twinges  of  rheumatism. 

We  now  tried  to  make  our  horses  and  our 
selves  comfortable  for  the  rest  of  the  winter. 
For  me  it  was  very  slow  work,  as  I  did  not 
wish  to  take  any  of  the  men  from  their  work 
on  their  own  quarters  to  help  me  on  mine.  So 
it  was  nearly  two  months  before  my  quarters 
were  made  comfortable;  and  I  was  settled  in 
them  only  two  days  when  the  order  came  to 
have  all  the  horses  shod  with  steel  corks,  all 
unserviceable  horses  turned  in  to  the  Quarter 
master,  five  days'  rations  in  haversacks,  eight 
rounds  of  ammunition  in  cartridge-boxes,  thirty 
pounds  of  forage  on  each  horse,  fifteen  days' 
rations  in  the  wagons,  and  all  to  be  in  readiness 
to  start  on  the  morning  of  February  27th  upon 
an  expedition  towards  Lynchburg.  Grant's  in- 


204     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

structions  were  to  destroy  the  Virginia  Central 
Railroad  and  the  James  River  Canal,  capture 
Lynchburg  if  practicable,  and  then  either  to 
join  General  Sherman  in  North  Carolina  or 
return  to  Winchester  as  Sheridan  should  think 
best. 

But  for  the  constant  schooling  of  a  soldier's 
life  in  the  virtue  of  equanimity,  taking  things 
as  they  come  without  complaint,  it  would  have 
been  a  sore  trial  to  give  up  so  hastily  the 
preparations  of  months.  I  had  received  from 
friends  at  home  and  had  just  finished  catalogu 
ing  a  soldier's  library  of  several  hundred  vol 
umes,  and  I  had  begun  to  distribute  them 
among  the  men  when  this  order  came,  and  I 
was  compelled  to  box  them  up  immediately. 
In  order  that  they  might  not  fail  utterly  of 
their  mission,  I  sent  them  to  the  Agent  of  the 
United  States  Sanitary  Commission  in  Win 
chester,  who  saw  that  they  were  distributed 
through  the  hospitals.  But  I  never  saw  them 
more. 

The  morning  of  February  27,  1865,  was  cold 
and  rainy,  and  snow  still  covered  the  ground, 
but  we  started  punctually  as  ordered,  and  took 
the  turnpike  towards  Strasburg.  The  column 
was  about  ten  miles  long.  The  First  Division, 
in  which  was  my  regiment,  consisted  of  4,787 
men  and  was  commanded  by  General  Devin. 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  205 

The  other  division,  of  4,600  men,  was  led  by 
General  Custer.  Each  division  had  one  sec 
tion  of  artillery.  The  train  consisted  of  four 
baggage  wagons,  sixteen  ammunition  wagons, 
eight  ambulances,  eight  pontoons,  and  about 
three  miles  of  pack-mules  carrying  fifteen 
days'  rations  of  coffee,  sugar,  and  salt.  General 
Merritt  was  made  Chief  of  Cavalry  and  General 
Sheridan  directed  in  person  the  movement. 
Never  was  a  more  superb  body  of  cavalry  sent 
into  the  field,  and  never  were  any  more  ably 
commanded.  These  ten  thousand  cavaliers 
were  as  one  in  their  fearless  devotion  to  any 
duty  set  before  them  by  their  admired  leader. 
They  were  almost  all  veterans,  toughened  to 
war's  exposures,  disciplined  to  its  sternest 
demands,  fearless  of  its  dangers,  and  heedless 
of  its  alarms.  And  they  were  superbly  mounted, 
not  a  halting  animal  in  the  miles  on  miles  of 
thick-ranked  steeds.  Alas!  that  thousands  of 
these  horses  were  never  to  reach  that  journey's 
end! 

We  made  thirty  miles  the  first  day,  passing 
over  the  familiar  battlefields  about  Newtown, 
Middletown,  Cedar  Creek,  and  Strasburg,  and 
encamped  near  Woodstock.  We  found  the 
streams  much  swollen  with  the  rains  that  were 
still  pouring  down  and  washing  the  gathered 
snow  into  the  rivers,  but  our  pontoon  boats 


206      FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

bore  us  safely  and  easily  over  them.  The 
second  day  we  made  twenty-nine  miles  and 
approached  Harrisonburg.  The  third  day 
brought  us  to  Mount  Crawford,  where  General 
Rosser's  cavalry  attempted  to  delay  our  column 
by  trying  to  burn  the  bridges  over  Middle 
River.  But  two  of  Colonel  Capehart's  regi 
ments  swam  the  stream — a  terribly  cold  swim 
on  March  1st,  but  they  routed  Rosser  and 
captured  thirty  prisoners  and  twenty  ambu 
lances  and  wagons.  After  crossing  the  river, 
we  went  into  camp  near  Staunton  where 
General  Early  had  made  his  winter  quarters. 
The  fourth  day,  without  any  delay  for  recon- 
noitering,  the  column  pushed  right  on  and  en 
tered  Staunton,  which  General  Early  had 
hastily  evacuated  in  order  to  make  a  stand  in 
a  more  favorable  position  at  Waynesboro, 
where  he  could  have  the  Blue  Ridge  at  his 
back  to  flee  to  in  case  of  defeat.  And  well  he 
did  this,  for  it  was  the  only  way  he  saved 
himself  and  Wharton  and  two  other  of  his 
Generals.  Custer  had  the  advance  that  day 
and  found  the  enemy  in  his  chosen  position 
with  two  brigades  of  infantry  behind  breast 
works  flanked  by  artillery  and  cavalry.  Custer 
made  his  dispositions  to  attack  at  once,  send 
ing  Pennington's  brigade  dismounted  around 
the  left  flank  of  the  enemy,  while  he  with  the 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  207 

other  two  brigades,  partly  mounted  and  partly 
dismounted,  boldly  attacked  and  impetuously 
carried  the  works  in  his  front.  Then  he  im 
mediately  ordered  two  regiments — the  Eighth 
New  York  and  First  Connecticut — to  charge 
in  column  of  fours  through  the  broken  line  of 
the  enemy.  This  they  did  gallantly  and 
pressed  on  through  the  town  and  across  the 
South  Fork  of  the  Shenandoah,  where  they 
spread  out  in  a  thin  long  line  ready  to  scoop 
up  the  retreating  enemy.  But  there  was  little 
need  of  using  force  to  this  end,  as  the  Rebels 
at  once  threw  down  their  arms,  and  surrend 
ered,  with  cheers  at  the  brilliant  stroke  by 
which  they  were  captured.  The  substantial 
results  of  this  victory  were  eleven  pieces  of 
artillery  with  horses  and  caissons  complete, 
two  hundred  wagons  loaded  with  subsistence, 
seventeen  battle-flags,  and  sixteen  hundred 
prisoners.  The  results  from  a  military  point  of 
view  were  much  greater,  as  the  Shenandoah 
Valley  was  thus  cleared  of  all  enemies,  and  the 
undisturbed  crossing  of  the  Blue  Ridge  was 
secured  at  Rockfish  Gap,  the  only  pass  that  at 
this  season  was  free  from  snow. 

The  next  day — March  3d — our  brigade  de 
stroyed  the  iron  bridge  at  Waynesboro  by 
heaping  up  railroad  ties  at  intervals  upon  it 
and  then  setting  them  on  fire,  thus  allowing 


208      FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND  PRISON 

the  heat  to  warp  the  bridge  to  destruction. 
Then  we  took  up  our  march  through  Rockfish 
Gap  towards  Charlottesville,  having  the  hard 
est  and  most  destructive  day's  tramp  I  ever 
knew;  for  the  rain  had  been  pouring  in  tor 
rents  through  three  days,  and  the  roads  were 
bad  beyond  description,  and  horses  and  men 
could  hardly  be  recognized  for  the  mud  which 
covered  them.  As  the  horses  by  their  tramp 
ing  kneaded  out  the  water  from  the  clayey 
mud,  and  as  each  successive  rank  of  fours 
naturally  stepped  in  the  hollows  made  by  the 
rank  in  front  of  it,  the  mud  soon  lay  in  ridges 
a  foot  and  a  half  to  two  feet  high  like  heavy 
beams  across  the  road,  and  the  horses  who 
were  unfortunate  enough  to  be  at  the  end  of 
the  moving  column  had  to  step  very  high  and 
with  great  labor  over  these  barriers,  soon  ex 
hausting  themselves.  We  were  always  glad,  on 
these  muddy  days  especially,  when  it  came  our 
turn  to  lead  the  column;  and  then  too  it  was 
quite  an  advantage  to  get  into  camp  at  reason 
able  hours  at  night.  On  one  of  these  days 
when  we  brought  up  the  rear  we  did  not  bivouac 
till  four  o'clock  in  the  morning. 

As  we  approached  Charlottesville  the  mayor 
of  the  city  met  us  at  the  outskirts  and  with 
profuse  ceremony  delivered  up  the  keys  of 
the  public  buildings.  But  General  Custer, 


IN  THE  CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  209 

who  was  in  the  advance,  waived  all  formalities 
and  dashed  through  the  town  and  gobbled  up 
some  cavalry  and  artillery  that  were  attempt 
ing  to  escape. 

Sheridan  ordered  a  halt  of  two  days  for  the 
cavalry  at  Charlottesville  to  wait  for  the 
wagons  to  extricate  themselves  from  the  mud 
and  to  catch  up  with  us.  Still  we  were  not 
idle,  but  spent  the  time  in  destroying  the 
Orange  &  Alexandria  Railroad  for  fifteen  miles 
in  either  direction  towards  Gordonsville  and 
towards  Lynchburg.  This  was  done  to  pre 
vent  troops  from  Richmond  and  from  Lynch 
burg  from  massing  in  our  rear  when  we  should 
go  forward  to  the  James  River.  We  also  took 
advantage  of  the  rich  country  about — as  yet 
unwasted  with  war's  desolations — to  gather 
large  quantities  of  forage  and  subsistence. 
Thus  our  enforced  delay  was  an  unfortunate 
one  for  the  city  and  its  vicinity.  Our  appetites, 
never  feeble,  were  doubly  whetted  by  the  keen 
mountain  air,  and  broiled  chicken  and  roast 
pig  were  luxuries  not  to  be  passed  untasted. 
Then  too  the  wine-cellars  of  the  gentry  dis 
gorged  for  us  their  precious  treasures  covered 
with  the  dust  of  years,  since  they  were  gathered 
from  the  sunny  banks  of  the  Rhine  and  the 
Danube.  Many  of  the  men  took  more  peri 
lous  tastes  of  apple-jack — warranted,  it  was 


210     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND  PRISON 

said,  to  kill  at  forty  paces — and  sure  enough 
they  who  touched  it  to  their  lips  would  fall 
as  if  shot,  so  overmastering  was  the  potent 
draught.  The  foragers  for  pork  had  great 
sport  in  gathering  their  unctuous  supplies.  I 
saw  some  of  them,  just  as  they  struck  the 
trail  of  a  sow  and  a  litter  of  eight  fat  pigs  root 
ing  in  the  woods.  Alas!  poor  pigs!  Not  one 
was  left  to  tell  the  harrowing  tale  or  squeal 
his  lonely  woe.  The  eager  foragers  charged 
with  drawn  sabres  upon  the  porcine  pack,  and 
though  the  pigs'  swift  wheelings  drew  many  an 
ineffectual  thrust,  yet  in  a  very  few  minutes 
the  cavaliers  secured  their  booty,  and  were 
soon  distributing  the  unusually  savory  rations 
among  their  companions. 

This  delay  by  reason  of  mud  and  rain  com 
pelled  the  abandonment  of  the  plan  to  capture 
Lynchburg,  as  it  was  already  being  reinforced. 
But  Sheridan  determined  to  destroy  the  rail 
road  as  far  towards  Lynchburg  as  Amherst 
Court  House,  and  the  James  River  Canal  as 
far  as  Newmarket.  Custer  was  assigned  to  the 
first  labor,  and  his  men  made  short  work  of  it. 
They  would  build  up  a  large  mound  of  sleepers 
and  then  cross  the  rails  on  top  of  them  so  that 
when  the  fire  was  kindled  they  would  bend 
with  their  own  weight;  and  then,  to  destroy 
them  even  more  completely,  the  men  would 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  211 

draw  them  with  their  red  hot  centres  from  the 
flames  and  wind  them  about  telegraph  poles. 
A  regiment  could  thus  destroy  in  a  day  a  whole 
mile  of  railroad.  Devin's  division  was  assigned 
the  task  of  destroying  the  canal  by  opening  and 
disabling  the  locks;  and  they  also  burned  all 
the  mills  and  factories  along  the  banks.  One 
squadron  of  the  Second  Massachusetts  Cavalry 
was  sent  forward  to  secure  the  bridge  over  the 
James  at  Duguidsville  in  order  that  Sheridan 
might  cross  and  make  a  raid  towards  Appo- 
mattox  Court  House,  and  destroy  the  South 
Side  Railroad  from  that  point  to  Farmville  and 
so  cut  off  all  of  Lee's  sources  of  supply.  But 
the  Confederates  had  anticipated  this  design 
and  had  covered  the  bridge  with  combustible 
materials  which  they  kindled  at  our  first 
approach.  One  of  our  companies  then  recon 
noitred  towards  Lynchburg  and  went  within 
sight  of  the  city  and  found  that  it  was  strongly 
fortified  and  occupied  by  a  heavy  force  of 
infantry,  which  was  just  as  Young's  scouts 
had  already  reported  to  Sheridan.  These 
facts  together  with  the  burning  by  the  enemy 
of  the  bridge  at  Hardwicksville  and  the  im 
possibility  of  crossing  the  James  in  its  then 
swollen  condition  with  the  eight  pontoons  at 
our  command  made  Sheridan  give  up  his  plan 
of  destroying  the  South  Side  Railroad.  And 


212      FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

of  course  he  could  not  join  Sherman  even  if 
he  wanted  to — which  he  didn't.  Neither  did 
he  care  to  return  to  Winchester,  as  the  whole 
country  north  of  the  James  was  now  open  to 
him  and  he  might  continue  his  destruction  of 
the  northern  lines  of  Lee's  supply.  Besides 
he  wanted  to  be  in  with  Grant  at  the  death  of 
the  Confederacy  and  to  have  his  cavalry  share 
the  honors  of  the  final  victory,  which  he  believed 
to  be  very  near.  So  we  faced  about  and 
marched  towards  Richmond  along  the  James 
River,  reaching  Columbia  on  the  loth  of  March, 
having  destroyed  on  the  way  the  canal  and  all 
the  mills  with  immense  quantities  of  tobacco, 
flour,  and  bacon,  and  having  captured  many 
canal-boats  loaded  with  shot  and  shell  for  the 
Rebel  army.  The  enemy's  cavalry  kept  up  a 
constant  fire  upon  us  from  safe  retreats  on  the 
southern  bank  of  the  river,  but  with  little  or 
no  effect,  and  they  burned  every  bridge  to 
prevent  our  crossing.  One  of  our  brigades 
pressed  on  as  far  as  Goochland  and  eight  miles 
beyond,  destroying  the  canal  the  whole  distance. 
Sheridan  halted  one  day  at  Columbia  to  let 
the  trains  catch  up.  For  the  rain  and  the  mud 
were  still  delaying  them,  and  the  mules  were 
getting  exhausted.  But  the  thousands  of  tired 
mules  found  helpful  friends  in  thousands  of 
negroes  who  gladly  joined  our  column,  and 


IN  THE  CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  213 

with  a  will  put  their  sturdy  shoulders  to  the 
wheels,  and  lifted  along  the  stalled  wagons  so 
that  we  were  not  long  delayed.  At  Columbia, 
Sheridan  sent  despatches  to  Grant  notifying 
him  of  our  success,  position,  and  condition, 
and  our  intention  to  join  him,  and  requesting 
that  supplies  be  sent  to  meet  us  at  White  House 
Landing,  and  a  pontoon  bridge  to  take  us  over 
the  Pamunkey.  These  despatches  were  so  im 
portant  that  they  were  sent  in  duplicate  by 
two  sets  of  scouts, — one  set  by  land  around 
the  Rebel  lines,  the  other  set  down  the  James 
River  through  the  Rebel  lines.  Both  were 
safely  delivered;  but,  as  in  many  another 
instance,  the  farthest  way  round  was  the 
nearest  way  home.  The  shorter  way  through 
Richmond  and  Petersburg  was  beset  with 
dangers,  and  suspicious  questionings  had  to  be 
answered  at  every  turn.  The  danger  on  both 
sides — on  one  side  of  being  shot  as  a  deserter 
and  on  the  other  of  being  shot  as  an  invader — 
in  passing  from  the  Rebel  to  the  Union  lines  at 
Petersburg  was  not  the  least  that  was  en 
countered. 

But  how  was  Sheridan  to  get  to  White 
House  without  a  very  long  and  wearisome 
march?  The  railroad  from  Richmond  to 
Gordonsville  was  still  intact,  and  Lee — already 
aware  of  our  presence — could  throw  his  infantry 


214     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND  PRISON 

on  our  front  or  flank  or  rear  as  he  chose.  He 
had  shown  himself  able  to  keep  his  line  of 
defence  before  Grant  and  at  the  same  time  to 
detach  large  bodies  of  infantry  to  assist  in 
the  defence  of  more  distant  places  that  were 
exposed  to  the  raids  of  Sheridan's  cavalry. 
And  now  Sheridan  was  not  many  miles  away, 
and  threatening  all  the  northern  sources  of 
supply  for  Lee's  army.  It  was  certain  that 
Lee  would  make  a  desperate  effort  to  disable 
Sheridan.  In  this  emergency,  Sheridan  decided 
first  to  prevent  the  enemy  from  getting  in  our 
rear.  This  he  accomplished  by  sending  Devin's 
division  to  Louisa  Court  House  to  destroy  the 
Virginia  Central  Railroad  as  far  as  Frederick's 
Hall,  and  Custer's  division  to  destroy  it  from 
Frederick's  Hall  to  Beaver  Dam  station. 
Then  fighting  his  way  as  far  as  he  could  towards 
Richmond  till  he  should  encounter  Lee's 
infantry,  Sheridan,  under  cover  of  this  pre 
tended  attack  upon  Richmond,  would  withdraw 
and  march  by  a  short  detour  on  the  north  side 
of  the  Pamunkey  to  White  House  Landing. 
This  bold  plan  was  fully  carried  out.  It  took 
but  two  days  to  destroy  the  railroad  completely 
for  thirty-five  miles.  Then  both  divisions 
marched  by  different  routes  towards  Richmond, 
meaning  to  come  together  at  Ashland.  The 
first  determined  opposition  that  Devin's  divi- 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  215 

sion  met  was  developed  at  the  bridge  over  the 
South  Anna.  Here  the  Second  Massachusetts 
Cavalry,  having  the  advance,  dismounted  and 
charged  up  to  the  bridge  and  then  dashed 
across  it,  driving  away  the  artillerists  posted 
to  defend  it,  and  turned  their  own  guns — four 
2O-pound  Parrotts — upon  them,  causing  fearful 
havoc.  Ouster's  division  marched  by  way  of 
Ground  Squirrel  Bridge,  but  before  he  got  there 
he  intercepted  a  telegram  from  General  Early 
to  Lee,  stating  that  he  was  following  Sheridan 
with  two  hundred  cavalry  and  intended  to 
strike  him  in  the  rear  at  daylight.  Custer, 
without  delaying  his  main  column,  sent  out  a 
single  regiment  after  him.  It  soon  scattered 
the  party,  capturing  two  of  Early's  staff- 
officers  and  most  of  the  men.  Early  himself 
escaped  by  swimming  the  South  Anna  River. 
Thus  ingloriously  ended  his  Valley  Campaign 
in  which  he  had  losj:  all  his  army,  every  piece 
of  artillery,  and  all  his  trains.  Thus  ended 
also  what  had  been  for  many  months  our 
frequent  joke:  "What's  the  news  from  Sheridan 
this  morning?"  "He's  gone  to  press  Early." 

The  whole  cavalry  force  reached  Ashland  on 
the  morning  of  March  I5th,  and  found  the 
enemy  in  force  under  Longstreet  with  Pickett's 
and  Johnson's  divisions  of  infantry  and  Fitz- 
hugh  Lee's  cavalry.  These  had  been  sent  out 


2l6     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

by  General  Lee  with  orders  to  annihilate 
Sheridan  and  his  rangers.  We  skirmished  with 
them  till  dusk,  and  then  Sheridan,  leaving 
Colonel  Pennington  of  Custer's  division  with 
one  brigade  to  keep  up  the  show  of  an  intended 
advance,  withdrew  the  rest  of  his  command, 
and  marching  northward  recrossed  the  South 
Anna  River  and  pressed  on  over  Little  River 
and  the  North  Anna.  Colonel  Pennington 
withdrew  after  dusk,  and  by  midnight  the 
whole  command  was  in  camp  near  Mount 
Carmel  Church,  and  Sheridan  slept  quietly, 
as  there  was  now  a  clear  road  before  him  north 
of  the  Pamunkey. 

But  there  was  one  of  the  command  who, 
though  off  duty,  did  not  sleep  quietly,  and  who 
looked  more  like  a  drowned  rat  than  anything 
else.  And  he  felt  so  too.  It  happened  that 
evening  that  the  Second  Massachusetts  Cavalry 
came  to  the  ford  of  the  North  Anna  about 
eight  o'clock,  and,  as  it  was  rainy  and  very 
dark,  the  marks  of  the  ford  as  it  rose  from  the 
opposite  side  of  the  river  had  for  some  time 
been  invisible  from  the  southern  bank.  So 
the  only  guide  to  the  ford  for  each  cavalry-man 
was  the  horse  in  front  of  him,  and,  without 
suspecting  it,  this  was  another  instance  of  the 
blind  leading  the  blind.  For  the  unconscious 
pressure  of  the  current  upon  the  legs  of  the 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  217 

horses  had  slowly  but  persistently  pushed 
each  successive  rank  farther  and  farther  down 
the  stream  and  away  from  the  only  practicable 
ford.  Thus  it  came  to  pass  that  when  we 
entered  the  river,  the  column's  line  of  crossing 
had  been  pushed  so  far  down  that  our  horses 
began  to  flounder  wildly  in  the  deep  water, 
and  they  pressed  confusedly  for  the  nearest 
point  of  the  opposite  bank,  which  at  this  place 
was  so  steep  that  my  Colonel's  powerful 
stallion  just  before  me,  in  his  mad  efforts  to 
climb  with  his  rider  the  precipitous  shore, 
fell  over  backward  and  knocked  me  off  my 
horse,  and  before  I  could  clutch  the  bank,  I 
was  trampled  upon  by  the  swimming  horses 
behind  me  and  crushed  down  under  the  water 
to  the  bed  of  the  river;  and  there  I  was,  my 
back  prone  upon  the  mud  and  sand,  and  my 
face  and  front  exposed  to  the  merciless  kicks 
of  the  frantic  beasts  who  were  unwittingly 
making  a  stepping-stone  of  my  pummelled 
body  to  assist  them  up  the  treacherous  muddy 
bank.  I  was  only  saved  from  broken  bones 
by  the  fortunate  depth  of  the  water,  which 
buoyed  up  the  otherwise  crushing  weight  of 
the  struggling  steeds.  My  escape  from  a 
watery  grave  was  due  chiefly  to  the  happy 
chance  that  before  I  was  pushed  under  the 
river,  I  had  noticed  a  flat  boat  moored  only  a 


218      FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

few  feet  away.  Happily,  too,  I  had  sense 
enough  left  to  know  that  my  only  chance  of 
escape  was  to  get  under  its  protection  away 
from  the  horses'  feet.  So  I  wriggled  along  on 
the  river  bottom  in  that  direction,  pulling 
myself  by  laying  hold  of  what  seemed,  and 
I  doubt  not  were,  the  roots  of  the  trees  growing 
on  the  bank.  While  thus  struggling  for  dear 
life,  I  experienced  that  miracle  of  thought  that, 
in  such  fateful  moments  when  the  soul  enters 
the  shadow  of  instant  dissolution,  flashes  its 
lightning-like  illumination  through  the  dark 
chambers  of  the  memory,  bringing  into  clear 
view  many  a  long-forgotten  scene,  and  pre 
senting  in  a  moment  the  whole  drama  of  life. 
It  seems  as  if  I  could  fill  an  hour  with  the  mere 
enumeration  of  the  vivid  recollections  of  those 
few  moments  when  the  waters  drew  their  black 
pall  over  my  outward  sight  only  to  flash  more 
clearly  upon  the  inner  vision  the  instantaneous 
picture  of  the  past.  Even  this  supreme  crisis 
of  intensest  life  with  its  thousand  thronging 
memories  and  its  unspeakably  solemn  anticipa 
tions  was  relieved  with  a  touch  of  humor  as 
I  thought  of  the  unheroic  homeliness  of  my 
being  smothered  there  alone  in  the  river's  moist 
shroud  as  contrasted  with  the  sustaining  in 
spirations  in  meeting  death  with  brave  com 
panions  on  the  field  of  glorious  war.  I  said 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  219 

to  myself:  "This  inglorious  taking  off  is  hardly 
what  I  anticipated  in  coming  out  to  fight  for 
my  country.  None  will  know  whether  I  made 
a  brave  ending,  or  where  I  met  my  death.  I 
shall  not  even  be  missed  till  daylight,  and  if 
my  body  should  chance  to  be  picked  up  down 
stream,  it  will  be  labelled  *  unknown/  and  no 
4 monument  more  lasting  than  brass'  will 
tell  to  the  coming  generations  of  the  heroism  of 
the  soldier's  sacrifice."  At  this  harmless  temp 
tation  of  the  devil  I  laughed  inwardly,  and 
then  went  on  with  my  wriggling,  and  as  soon 
as  I  was  free  from  the  legs  of  the  horses,  rose 
under  the  scow  and  struck  out  for  the  farther 
side,  and  had  just  strength  enough  left  to  pull 
myself  out  of  the  river  into  the  friendly  boat. 
As  soon  as  I  had  disgorged  some  of  the  water 
and  sand,  and  could  speak,  I  shouted  for 
Colonel  Crowninshield,  fearing  that  he  had 
shared  my  unwilling  baptism  without  my 
fortunate  escape;  for  there,  right  before  me, 
was  his  riderless  horse  struggling  with  mine 
and  others  to  clamber  up  the  steep  and  muddy 
bank.  But  no  answer  came  to  my  shouting 
and  I  learned  soon  after  that  the  Colonel  had — 
with  his  usual  quickness  of  insight — seen  the 
cause  of  the  danger  we  were  in,  and,  leaving  his 
horse  to  shift  for  himself,  had  hurried  to  the 
ford  to  make  a  fire  for  a  beacon  light  and  so 


220     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND  PRISON 

save  the  rest  of  the  column  from  our  misfortune. 
I  at  once  gave  myself  to  the  task  of  extricating 
the  horses  from  their  perilous  situation,  and 
with  the  aid  of  two  of  our  men  we  managed, 
by  getting  a  purchase  on  the  trees  growing 
by  the  bank,  to  pull  them  out  by  their  bridle- 
reins.  My  horse  and  myself  presented,  as  may 
be  imagined,  a  sorry  spectacle.  Her  saddle 
had  been  turned  under  her  by  my  overturning, 
and  in  her  struggles  the  blanket  had  become 
detached  and  had  gone  down  stream,  and  in  her 
pawing  away  at  the  bank  she  had  completely 
covered  herself  with  its  reddish  clay.  I  was 
dripping  with  water  and  weighted  down  with 
unmeasured  quantities  of  mud  and  sand. 
I  counted  thirteen  pocketsful,  as  I  emptied  them 
one  after  another.  Every  front  button  of 
my  overcoat  had  been  torn  off  by  the  horses' 
hoofs,  my  poor  hatless  head  bore  the  marks  of 
my  pummelling  in  many  a  bump,  and  my 
hair,  mouth,  nose,  and  ears  were  filled  with 
sand  and  plastered  with  mud.  After  a  long 
search  in  the  darkness,  I  found  my  regiment 
encamped  not  far  from  the  ford,  and  the 
officers  sleeping  around  a  faint  fire  of  logs 
struggling  to  burn  in  the  drizzling  rain.  I  did 
not  dare  to  lie  down  in  my  wet  clothes,  this 
chilly  night  of  the  I5th  of  March,  so  I  stood 
through  the  rest  of  its  slow-moving  hours, 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  221 

turning  round  and  round  as  on  a  spit  before 
the  fire,  trying  vainly  to  thaw  out  the  shivers 
and  dry  my  dripping  garments.  The  world's 
record  for  a  willing  stay  under  water  was  in 
1910  three  minutes  and  six  seconds.  What  in 
1864  my  unwilling  record  was  I  cannot  tell, 
but  I  know  the  time  I  went  under,  as  my  watch 
stopped  at  8.25,  and  according  to  my  feelings 
the  water  must  have  got  to  it  only  a  few 
seconds  before. 

We  took  an  early  start  in  the  morning  in  the 
direction  of  Mangohick  Church,  and  next 
day — March  I7th — reached  King  William 
Court  House.  Both  these  days  were  cloudy, 
and  though  March  winds  might  stiffen  they 
could  not  dry  my  clothing.  Yet,  thanks  to  the 
vigor  nourished  by  our  outdoor  life,  I  caught  no 
cold,  and  felt  almost  as  well  as  ever  after  a  few 
days. 

We  reached  White  House  on  the  i8th  of 
March,  tired  and  dirty  and  tattered  and  torn, 
but  thankful  for  preservation  from  a  thousand 
perils,  and  ready  after  a  few  days'  refitting  to 
undertake  new  labors. 

Sheridan  said  in  his  official  report:  "There 
was  never  a  march  where  nature  offered 
such  impediments  and  shrouded  herself  in  such 
gloom  as  upon  this."  "Sixteen  out  of  the 
twenty  days  we  were  drenched  with  almost 


222      FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND  PRISON 

incessant  rains."  "  Swollen  and  almost  impassa 
ble  streams,  bottomless  swamps,  and  well-nigh 
bottomless  roads  opposed  our  way."  "  But  both 
officers  and  men  were  buoyed  up  by  the  thought 
that  we  were  on  our  way  to  help  our  brothers 
in  arms  before  Petersburg  in  the  final  struggle." 

It  was  very  unselfish  in  Sheridan,  who  had  had 
full  command  of  a  department,  to  go  to  Grant 
and  to  take  the  risk  of  being  put  under  com 
manders  of  much  less  experience.  To  be  sure, 
he  was  immediately  rewarded  by  an  enlarged 
and  independent  command,  but  that  does  not 
detract  from  the  disinterested  patriotism  of  his 
motives. 

We  found  at  White  House  not  nearly  enough 
horses  to  supply  our  losses.  We  had  left  nearly 
four  thousand  by  the  way,  nearly  all  of  them  dis 
abled  by  hoof-rot  or  grease-heel  and  scratches. 
I  lost  one  the  tenth  day  out.  In  the  wading 
through  the  mud  the  horses  were  apt  to  scratch 
themselves  in  the  unaccustomed  effort,  and,  as 
we  could  not  stop  to  wash  the  wound,  every 
slightest  scratch  would  be  aggravated  by  con 
stant  contact  with  the  mud  till  in  two  or  three 
days  the  horse  would  be  useless,  and  have  to  be 
shot  to  prevent  his  afterwards  reviving  and 
becoming  of  service  to  the  enemy.  So  our  way 
was  strewn  with  the  dead  bodies  of  these  dumb 
but  heroic  partners  in  our  toils  and  perils. 


IN  THE  CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  223 

Most  who  lost  their  horses  obtained  a  remount 
from  the  captured  horses  and  mules.  But 
many  were  compelled  to  walk,  long  distances. 
We  had  marched  about  four  hundred  miles  in 
twenty  days,  and  by  the  destruction  of  hun 
dreds  of  miles  of  railway  and  canal  made  it 
impossible  for  Lee  to  campaign  or  get  supplies 
any  more  north  of  the  James.  The  threatening 
advance  upon  Ashland  and  the  quick  retreat  in 
the  night  foiled  Lee's  plan  to  cut  us  off  from 
joining  Grant;  for  though  Longstreet,  on  dis 
covering  the  next  morning  that  we  had  vanished 
from  his  front,  marched  at  once  to  Hanover 
Court  House,  he  could  not  at  that  point  cross 
the  Pamunkey  to  again  block  our  advance,  and 
after  that  he  could  not  get  to  White  House  as 
quickly  as  we.  So  without  further  efforts  to 
check  us  he  returned  to  Richmond. 

Our  entire  loss  in  men  in  the  whole  expedi 
tion  did  not  exceed  a  hundred,  and  thousands  of 
negroes,  looking  upon  us  as  their  deliverers, 
followed  our  column  into  White  House. 

The  rich  results  of  this  campaign  show  the 
advantage  of  delegating  discretionary  powers 
to  leaders  who  are  trusty.  The  original  plan  of 
joining  Sherman  could  not  have  borne  half  the 
fruits.  Grant  had  discovered  that  Sheridan  was 
not  only  a  brilliant  raider  and  an  impetuous 
fighter,  but  also  a  deliberate  strategist  and  a 


224      FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND  PRISON 

careful  handler  of  his  men.  So  in  giving  his 
instructions  at  Winchester,  Grant  left  to 
Sheridan  to  determine  his  course  by  the  light  he 
should  get  on  the  way.  And  Sheridan  chose,  as 
we  all  did,  to  throw  our  lot  with  our  fellow- 
soldiers  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac. 

It  took  us  six  days  to  get  ready  again  for  the 
field;  and  even  then  many  for  lack  of  equip 
ment  had  to  be  sent  to  dismounted  camp.  For 
the  horses  were  still  dying  daily  by  hundreds 
from  the  exhaustion  of  the  march.  Our  camp 
was  on  the  border  of  an  immense  swamp  which 
before  we  left  became  nearly  filled  with  dead 
horses  unburied,  whose  noisome  and  noxious 
stench  had  already  begun  to  poison  our  men, 
many  of  whom  were  suddenly  seized  with  chills 
and  fever.  It  was  a  perfect  paradise  for  turkey 
buzzards,  but  a  hungry  graveyard  for  horse  and 
man. 

On  the  morning  of  March  25th  at  6.30  we 
started  from  White  House  on  the  march  that  in 
sixteen  days  was  to  end  at  Appomattox.  The 
first  day  brought  us  by  way  of  Charles  City 
Court  House  to  Harrisons  Landing.  The 
second  day  we  skirted  the  north  bank  of  the 
James  past  Malvern  Hill  to  Deep  Bottom,  where 
we  crossed  the  river  and  went  into  camp  on  the 
southern  bank.  The  night  was  intensely  cold, 
and  when  we  started  again  at  6  our  march  was 


IN  THE  CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  225 

over  frozen  ground.  We  soon  reached  the 
Appomattox  River  near  Point  of  Rocks  and 
crossed  on  two  pontoon  bridges,  passed  through 
Fort  Cummings  near  the  southern  bank  of  the 
river  and  then  through  Forts  Haskell  and 
Stedman.  We  had  thus  been  near  enough  to 
the  Rebel  batteries  to  be  under  their  fire  at 
times,  and  could  see  in  the  distance  the  church 
spires  of  Petersburg.  That  night  we  went  into 
camp  near  Hancock  station  on  Grant's  extreme 
left  at  the  terminus  of  the  military  railroad 
which  ran  for  fifteen  miles  from  flank  to  flank 
of  the  Union  Army. 

We  now  enter  upon  the  closing  scenes  of 
this  bloody  drama  of  rebellion.  When  Grant 
learned  that  Sheridan  was  approaching  by 
way  of  the  White  House,  he  delayed  the  final 
movement  in  order  that  he  might  have  the 
cavalry  at  hand  for  a  decisive  stroke.  He 
felt  that  the  force  of  the  rebellion  was  nearly 
spent.  By  the  capture  of  Atlanta,  Sherman 
had  severed  the  Confederacy  in  twain,  and 
had  destroyed  one  of  its  chief  sources  for  the 
supply  of  food  and  ammunition;  and  he  was 
now  sweeping  a  wide  swath  of  desolation 
northward  towards  Virginia,  threatening  dis 
aster  to  any  force  that  might  escape  from 
before  Grant's  tightening  clutches.  By  the 
crushing  defeat  of  Hood  before  Nashville, 


226      FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

Thomas  had  practically  annihilated  the  Army 
of  the  West,  and  so  put  an  end  to  the  hopes  of 
the  Confederacy  beyond  the  Alleghanies.  And 
now  Sheridan  had  destroyed  those  main 
branches  of  Lee's  communications — the  Lynch- 
burg  Railroad  and  the  James  River  Canal. 
The  effective  forces  of  the  Rebellion  were  thus 
confined  to  the  small  region  between  the  Neuse 
and  the  James,  the  Blue  Ridge  and  the  Atlantic. 
And  even  there  its  life  was  flickering;  for  it 
had  lost  its  hold  upon  the  people.  They  could 
no  longer  be  drawn  into  enlistment  by  bribes 
nor  threats.  They  could  not  be  made  to  con 
tribute  even  the  necessary  supplies  for  the 
army,  except  by  forced  levies.  The  excite 
ment  and  enthusiasm  that  had  taken  them  out 
of  the  Union  had  long  since  cooled.  The  fair 
fields  of  Virginia,  which  were  now  to  drink  the 
last  drops  of  sacrificial  blood,  had  already 
swallowed  up  nearly  one-half  of  the  dreadful 
holocaust  of  precious  lives — estimated  at  two 
millions  wounded  or  disabled  and  half  a  million 
killed  in  the  whole  war  over  the  whole  extent 
of  the  country.  How  this  proud  State  would 
have  hesitated  before  throwing  down  the  gage 
of  battle,  had  she  known  how  War  with  horrid 
front  would  stalk  across  her  borders,  trampling 
into  barrenness  her  fruitful  fields,  felling  her 
forests  to  give  clearer  sweep  to  his  fiery  coursers 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  227 

of  destruction,  reddening  her  streams  with  the 
blood  of  her  chosen  sons,  and  leaving  her 
maimed  and  exhausted,  her  pride  and  her 
power  crushed  in  a  common  ruin.  Up  to  the 
1st  of  April,  1865,  she  had  withstood,  or  driven 
back,  or  only  partially  yielded  before,  the 
furious  onsets  of  the  Union  forces  led  succes 
sively  by  McDowell,  McClellan,  Pope,  Burn- 
side,  Hooker,  and  Meade.  But  now  Grant, 
with  a  more  dogged  persistency  of  purpose, 
was  pushing  a  cordon  of  impregnable  force 
about  the  shattered  remnants  of  the  once 
proud  Army  of  Northern  Virginia,  and  nine 
days,  only,  served  to  crush  them  completely. 

Lee's  forces  at  this  time  numbered  on  paper 
one  hundred  and  sixty  thousand  men,  but  really 
he  had  only  about  fifty  thousand  effective 
troops.  Still  they  had  a  marvellous  energy  of 
despair,  and,  though  poorly  clothed  and  fed, 
they  were  sustained  by  the  brilliant  record 
which  their  army  had  made;  and  Lee  still 
hoped  to  prolong  the  war  till  terms  more 
favorable  to  the  Confederacy  could  be  extorted 
from  the  Federal  government. 

To  this  end  there  was  but  one  course  open 
to  him — to  retreat  from  Petersburg  and  Rich 
mond,  and  unite  with  Johnston's  army,  which 
was  now  at  Raleigh,  and  together  to  attack  the 
separate  armies  of  the  Union,  or,  failing  in  that, 


228      FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND  PRISON 

to  flee  into  the  mountains,  and  from  them  to 
sally  forth  at  favorable  opportunities  and 
worry  the  national  government  into  satisfac 
tory  terms  of  peace.  This  course  was  indeed 
decided  upon,  and  the  line  of  retreat  along  the 
South  Side  Railroad  was  fixed,  as  being  very 
much  shorter  than  any  other,  and  orders  were 
issued  to  accumulate  rations  at  Amelia  Court 
House,  which  was  to  be  the  first  base  of  sup 
plies  for  the  new  movement.  But  Grant's  left 
was  already  threatening  this  line  of  retreat. 
So  Lee  resorted  to  a  demonstration  against  the 
Union  right  in  order  to  compel  Grant  to  with 
draw  his  left.  But  though  in  a  fierce  and 
swift  assault  the  Confederates  carried  the  first 
line  of  works  and  captured  Fort  Stedman 
near  City  Point,  they  had  neither  the  impetus 
to  push  on  to  the  second  line  nor  the  strength 
to  hold  the  first;  and  they  lost  in  this  action 
five  thousand  effectives  which  they  could  by 
no  means  afford  to  spare,  and  they  relaxed  not 
by  one  iota  the  grip  which  Grant  was  gaining 
on  their  line  of  retreat. 

On  the  24th  of  March,  1865,  the  day  before 
this  last  offensive  movement  of  Lee,  Grant  had 
issued  orders  for  a  movement,  by  the  left,  on 
the  2pth,  and  on  that  morning  at  three  o'clock 
the  movement  began.  Our  cavalry  from  the 
Shenandoah,  now  united  with  our  comrades 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  229 

of  the  Second  Division  under  General  Crook, 
which  had  been  serving  since  the  previous 
August  with  the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  entered 
upon  this  campaign  as  a  separate  army,  re 
porting  directly  to  General  Grant.  This  ar 
rangement  had  been  made  by  Grant  in  the  way 
of  a  reward  to  Sheridan  for  voluntarily  yielding 
up  his  independence  as  a  department  com 
mander.  Our  line  of  march  was  first  south 
ward  towards  Reams  station  on  the  Weldon 
Railroad  and  then  westward  towards  Din- 
widdie  Court  House,  with  instructions  to  de 
stroy  the  two  main  roads  now  left  for  the  supply 
of  Lee's  army — the  Danville  and  the  South 
Side  Railroads.  But  before  night,  a  carrier 
from  Grant  countermanded  the  order  to  cut 
the  railroads,  and  directed  Sheridan  to  follow 
his  own  strongly  expressed  desire  to  "push 
around  the  enemy  and  get  upon  his  right  rear"; 
and  the  message  declared  also  in  characteristic 
terms,  "I  now  feel  like  ending  the  matter." 
Grant  accordingly  began  to  move  the  in 
fantry  in  the  direction  we  had  taken.  The 
Second  Corps  under  General  Humphreys,  leav 
ing  their  intrenchments  on  the  extreme  left 
of  Grant's  fortified  line,  crossed  Hatchers 
Run  by  the  Vaughan  Road,  and  then  marched 
in  a  northwesterly  direction  through  the  woods 
and  marshes  towards  the  enemy's  fortified  line 


230     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

along  the  White  Oak  Road.  Following  the 
Second  Corps,  the  Fifth,  under  General  Warren, 
crossed  Hatchers  Run  four  miles  farther  down, 
and  marched  by  the  Stage  Road  towards 
Dinwiddie  as  far  as  the  Quaker  Road,  when  it 
turned  northward  and  crossed  Gravelly  Run 
in  order  to  put  itself  on  the  left  of  the  Second 
Corps.  Meanwhile,  the  place  of  these  two 
corps  had  been  supplied  from  the  north  side 
of  the  James  by  General  Ord  with  two  divisions 
of  the  Twenty-fourth  Corps,  Major  General 
Gibbon  commanding,  and  one  division  of  the 
Twenty-fifth  Corps,  Brigadier  General  Birney 
commanding,  and  also  by  Mackenzie's  cavalry. 
Thus  on  the  night  of  March  29th  there  was  a 
continuous  line  of  infantry  from  Gravelly  Run 
to  Petersburg,  Warren  commanding  the  extreme 
left,  and  the  other  corps  commanders  to  the 
right  being  Humphreys,  Ord,  Wright,  and 
Parke,  with  Weitzel  commanding  the  remnant 
of  the  Army  of  the  James  north  of  that  river. 
As  this  new  extension  of  the  army  to  the  left 
advanced  beyond  Gravelly  Run,  Griffin's  divi 
sion  of  Warren's  corps  came  upon  the  enemy 
at  the  site  of  Dabney's  saw-mill,  and  a  warm 
engagement  ensued,  in  which  the  Confederates 
were  driven  back — with  a  loss  of  several  hun 
dred — as  far  as  the  junction  of  the  Quaker  Road 
with  the  Boydton  Plank  Road.  Here  darkness 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  231 

stopped  farther  advance;  but  the  next  day — 
the  30th — although  a  heavy  rain  was  falling 
continuously,  Griffin's  division  was  still  farther 
advanced  with  heavy  skirmishing  till  the 
enemy  were  driven  within  their  breastworks 
near  Burgess'  Mill;  and  at  the  same  time, 
Ayres'  division  was  pushed  forward  along  the 
Claiborne  Road  to  the  White  Oak  Road  near 
Mrs.  Butler's. 

By  reason  of  the  fearful  state  of  the  roads, 
the  next  day — March  3ist — would  have  passed 
without  any  forward  movement  of  the  infantry. 
But  Lee,  with  an  audacity  born  of  desperation, 
was  already,  without  our  knowledge,  taking  the 
initiative,  and  had  detached  every  man  he 
could  spare  from  the  trenches  about  Peters 
burg  and  was  even  now  massing  fifteen  thou 
sand  men  upon  his  extreme  right  to  drive  back 
the  Union  left;  and  on  the  morning  of  the  3 1st 
he  made  a  furious  attack  upon  the  advanced 
position  of  the  Second  and  Fifth  Corps,  at 
first  driving  them  back  in  confusion  almost  to 
the  Boydton  Plank  Road;  but  here  our  line 
rallied,  and  again  drove  the  enemy  back  into 
his  intrenchments. 

In  this  desperate  action  my  friend  and  class 
mate  Charles  J.  Mills  was  killed.  He  was 
serving  on  the  staff  of  General  Humphreys, 
and  had  just  written  home  this  frank  confes- 


232      FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

sion:  "To  die  for  one's  country  is  all  very 
well,  but  it  is  a  contingency  to  be  avoided  if 
possible;  and  the  more  battles  one  goes  through, 
the  less  inclined  one  is  to  come  to  grief."  Still 
he  kept  up  his  manly  courage,  and  blenched 
not  at  any  danger.  A  solid  shot  struck  him 
from  his  horse  and  he  died  instantly. 

While  affairs  thus  passed  with  the  infantry, 
our  cavalry  under  Sheridan  had  swept  round 
in  a  wider  curve  past  Reams  station,  as  I 
have  said,  and  across  Rowanty  Creek  where — 
the  bridge  having  been  destroyed  by  the  enemy 
— some  of  the  Maine  cavalry  dismounted  and 
took  up  the  axe  which  they  had  been  accus 
tomed  to  swing  so  deftly  in  their  native  forests, 
and  very  quickly  knocked  together  a  bridge 
upon  which  we  crossed  by  fours.  While  we 
were  waiting  for  the  bridge  to  be  built,  I  saw 
a  cavalryman,  more  venturesome  than  the 
rest,  try  to  cross.  He  was  deceived  by  there 
being  very  little  water  in  the  stream.  There 
had  not  been  rain  for  several  days.  But  the 
treacherous  mud  was  there,  and  his  horse 
plunged  into  it,  and  with  every  struggle  sank 
deeper  and  deeper  into  the  slime  till  nothing 
but  his  ears  were  visible,  and  his  rider  was 
barely  rescued  from  being  buried  alive. 

After  crossing  the  Rowanty,  our  column 
pressed  on  rapidly,  having  learned  that  the 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  233 

Confederate  cavalry  under  Generals  W.  H.  F. 
Lee  and  Rosser  were  south  of  us  marching  on 
parallel  roads  to  secure  if  possible  Dinwiddie 
Court  House.  But  our  advance  entered  it 
first,  reaching  it  at  five  o'clock,  and  so  gained 
and  held  a  point  of  great  strategic  importance, 
as  the  intersection  of  four  roads — Flatfoot  run 
ning  south,  Vaughan  running  east,  Boydton 
running  northeast  and  southwest,  and  Five 
Forks  running  north — along  which  the  enemy's 
cavalry  might  have  reached  the  rear  of  Warren's 
corps  in  its  present  position  across  the  Boydton 
Road,  or  upon  which  Sheridan  might  get  out 
to  destroy  the  Danville  and  South  Side  Rail 
roads,  or,  on  the  other  hand,  strike  Lee's  right 
flank  at  Five  Forks.  Sheridan's  first  move  was 
to  send  Gregg's  brigade  down  the  Boydton 
Plank  Road  to  destroy  the  bridge  over  Stony 
Creek,  and  thus  compel  the  Confederate 
cavalry,  which  was  threatening  our  flank  and 
rear,  to  keep  off,  and  to  make  a  wide  detour 
beyond  Chamberlain  Creek  before  they  could 
form  a  junction  with  the  Confederate  infantry. 
So  matters  stood  the  night  of  the  29th, 
which  was  one  of  the  most  dismal  imaginable. 
The  rain  began  to  fall  early  in  the  evening, 
and  was  soon  pouring  down  in  sheets.  We 
had  no  tents,  and  very  little  supper.  Our 
supply  train  was  stuck  in  the  mud  and  scattered 


234     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

all  the  way  from  Malons  Crossing  of  Rowanty 
Creek  to  the  Jerusalem  Plank  Road.  Every 
field  became  a  pool,  and  every  road  a  quag 
mire.  But  with  fence-rails  under  us,  and  rub 
ber  ponchos  over  us,  we  managed  to  get  a  little 
sleep. 

The  next  morning,  March  3Oth,  although 
the  rain  was  still  falling,  and  our  horses  were 
deeply  mired  in  the  swamps  and  quicksands, 
Sheridan  ordered  Merritt  to  send  Devin's 
division  on  a  reconnoissance  to  Five  Forks, 
and  to  feel  the  enemy's  position.  My  regi 
ment  happened  that  morning  to  have  the 
advance,  and  we  had  hardly  left  our  camp, 
before  we  came  upon  the  enemy's  cavalry, 
and  charging  upon  them  drove  them  back  in 
confusion  as  far  as  the  White  Oak  Road.  Here 
our  skirmishers,  under  Captain  Kuhls,  re 
bounded  from  a  deadly  fire  of  infantry  from 
behind  the  Confederate  earthworks.  We  had 
unconsciously  struck  Lee's  new  fortified  line. 
But  still,  thinking  the  earthworks  might  be 
thinly  manned,  our  regiment,  led  by  Colonel 
Crowninshield,  formed  a  compact  line  of 
battle,  and  made  a  gallant  charge;  only,  how 
ever,  to  be  hurled  back  again  by  a  bristling  line 
of  fire. 

Here,  Captain  Kuhls,  an  enthusiastic,  hot- 
blooded  German,  .who  seemed  crazed  by  the 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  235 

excitement  of  the  onset,  refused  to  quail  before 
that  belching  blaze  of  death,  and  I  could  see 
him  as,  without  a  follower,  he  galloped  his 
horse  defiantly  up  to  and  over  the  breastworks, 
utterly  oblivious  of  the  fact  that  alone  he  was 
charging  upon  Pickett's  division  of  ten  thou 
sand  veteran  infantry.  I  think  that  his  dar 
ing  must  have  struck  such  amazement  into  the 
enemy  that  they  refrained  from  shooting  him 
at  such  close  range;  for  the  mad  Captain 
escaped  with  his  life,  though  we  never  saw 
him  more.  I  have  heard  that  he  died  in  1883 
in  Idaho.  At  this  juncture  the  Sixth  Pennsyl 
vania  Cavalry  came  to  our  support,  and,  with 
them  on  our  left,  we  formed  a  line  of  defence 
along  Chamberlain  Run,  near  where  it  crosses 
the  White  Oak  Road,  and  held  this  position 
till  the  next  day. 

While  we  had  thus  been  busy  through  the 
day,  Sheridan  was  busy  in  the  effort  to  per 
suade  Grant  not  to  delay  the  movement  of  the 
infantry,  as  he  was  feeling  compelled  to  do  by 
reason  of  the  rain  and  the  mud.  Grant  had 
written  to  Sheridan  that  morning,  saying  that 
it  seemed  "impossible  to  do  much."  But 
Sheridan  had  already  set  his  own  troops  in 
motion,  and  was  greatly  troubled  lest  any  ad 
vantage  he  might  gain  should  be  lost  for  lack  of 
support.  So,  with  his  impetuous  spirit,  he 


236     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND  PRISON 

resolved  to  appeal  to  Grant  in  person.  Mount 
ing  his  powerful  gray  pacer,  Breckenridge,  he 
struggled  mile  after  mile  through  the  mud  to 
Grant's  headquarters  on  the  Vaughan  Road 
south  of  Gravelly  Run.  Grant  had  been  so 
beset  with  complaints  of  the  difficulties  in  the 
way  of  moving  the  trains  and  other  impedi 
menta  of  the  army,  that,  though  it  was  against 
his  wishes,  he  had  consented  to  delay.  But 
Sheridan's  earnest  confidence  soon  brought 
him  to  his  better  judgment,  and  he  said,  "We 
will  go  on."  Sheridan  then  hurried  back  and 
made  his  dispositions  to  attack  on  the  morrow. 
He  knew,  by  our  reconnoissance,  that  the 
enemy  meant  to  hold  the  White  Oak  Road, 
and  he  learned  by  his  scouts  that  Fitzhugh 
Lee's  cavalry  and  five  brigades  of  infantry 
under  Pickett  and  Johnson  had  joined  the 
forces  threatening  his  front  and  left  flank. 
Feeling  the  immense  importance  of  Five  Forks 
as  a  strategic  position,  he  gave  directions,  early 
on  the  morning  of  the  3ist,  that  Merritt  should, 
with  two  brigades  of  Devin's  division  and 
Davies'  brigade  of  Crook's  division,  pass 
through  the  line  that  we  of  the  Second  Massa 
chusetts  and  Sixth  Pennsylvania  had  been 
holding,  and  try  to  gain  the  White  Oak  Road, 
while  Crook,  with  his  other  two  brigades  under 
Smith  and  Gregg,  was  ordered  to  turn  to  the 


IN  THE  CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  237 

left  and  watch  the  crossings  of  Chamberlain 
Creek,  on  the  opposite  side  of  which  the  cavalry 
divisions  of  W.  H.  F.  Lee  and  Rosser  had  been 
seen  the  day  before.  Merritt  succeeded  this 
time  in  reaching  the  White  Oak  Road,  and 
captured  the  coveted  position  at  Five  Forks; 
for  the  intrenchments  were  thinly  manned  at 
that  point,  as  the  enemy's  infantry  were  now 
concentrated  farther  to  the  right  in  the  attempt 
of  Lee,  which  I  have  already  described,  to  drive 
back  the  advance  of  Warren  and  Humphreys. 
But  our  cavalry  could  not  hold  the  Forks  long; 
for  Lee,  failing  in  his  attempt  to  drive  back 
our  infantry,  and  appreciating  the  necessity  of 
holding  Five  Forks,  sent,  back  the  infantry 
under  Pickett,  who  soon,  though  not  without 
stubborn  resistance,  dislodged  our  troopers 
from  the  crossroads.  At  the  same  time,  the 
Confederate  cavalry  made  a  desperate  attempt 
to  force  the  crossing  of  Fitzgerald's  Ford  on 
Chamberlain  Creek,  but  were  driven  back  by 
Smith's  brigade.  They  then  attempted  to 
cross  farther  up  where  Davies'  brigade  was 
posted;  and  here,  aided  by  infantry  from  Five 
Forks,  they  succeeded,  and  pressed  back  our 
thin  line  till  they  broke  it  and  crowded  Davies' 
troops  against  Devin's  left  flank,  which  itself 
had  been  pushed  back  by  the  Confederate 
infantry  nearly  to  the  place  where  the  Forks 


238      FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND  PRISON 

Road  branches,  about  half-way  to  Dinwiddie. 
This  break  in  the  line  separated  Devin  and 
Davies  from  the  rest  of  our  cavalry,  and  left 
them  no  recourse  but  to  retreat,  and  by  the 
Boydton  Plank  Road  rejoin  the  main  body  at 
Dinwiddie.  When  Devin  began  to  execute  this 
movement,  the  Confederates  set  upon  him 
with  all  possible  vigor,  and  thought  to  cut  him 
off  utterly;  but  in  following  him  they  exposed 
their  own  flank  to  Sheridan's  advance,  now  held 
by  the  Reserve  Brigade,  to  which  my  regiment 
belonged;  and  we  were  ordered  to  charge  upon 
them  at  once,  while  Gregg,  who  had  been  sent 
to  our  assistance,  assaulted  their  rear.  This 
unlooked-for  sally  compelled  the  Confederates 
to  give  up  the  pursuit  of  Devin,  and  to  face 
about  by  the  rear  rank  to  defend  themselves. 
As  soon  as  they  had  re-formed  their  lines,  they 
again  pressed  forward  towards  us,  and  with 
ranks  reinforced  by  infantry  from  -Five  Forks. 
Sheridan,  perceiving  now  that  he  would  have  a 
difficult  task  even  to  hold  his  own  against  this 
overwhelming  force,  sent  off  rapid  riders  to 
General  Custer,  who  had  been  laboring  all  day 
in  the  rear  to  bring  the  supply  trains  over  the 
bottomless  bogs  at  Malons  Crossing,  and  or 
dered  him  to  take  two  brigades  and  come  with 
all  haste  to  the  front.  The  Confederate  in 
fantry  now  before  us  were  not  accustomed  to 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865          239 

be  delayed  in  their  advance  by  cavalry.  They 
were  the  flower  of  the  Army  of  Northern  Vir 
ginia,  and  were  led  by  one  of  its  best  fighting 
Generals — Pickett.  They  seemed  to  us  utterly 
reckless  of  death.  In  the  face  of  our  severest 
fire  they  would  swoop  down  upon  us  across  an 
open  field  with  such  a  careless  swing,  it  seemed 
as  if  they  enjoyed  being  on  the  skirmish  line, 
and  we  suspected  that  they  had  such  a  miserable 
time  of  it  in  camp  that  they  preferred  standing 
up  to  be  shot  at.  Ours  was  now  the  toughest 
task  of  the  day,  to  hold  them  at  bay  till  we 
could  be  reinforced.  To  accomplish  this  most 
effectually,  three  of  every  four  of  our  men  dis 
mounted,  the  fourth  leading  the  three  riderless 
horses  to  the  rear.  A  cavalryman  feels  some 
what  lost  fighting  on  his  legs,  but  our  men 
formed  as  broad  a  line  as  they  could  with  their 
small  numbers,  and,  though  armed  with  short- 
range  carbines,  they  were  able,  by  deliberate 
aim  and  quick  discharges,  to  make  the  Con 
federate  advance  exceedingly  slow,  and  to  give 
Sheridan  time  to  make  a  new  line  of  defence  in 
our  rear.  It  was  now  nearly  dusk,  and  we 
could  not  hold  out  much  longer  against  the 
long-range  rifles  and  heavy  columns  of  the  Con 
federate  infantry;  for,  though  our  Spencer 
carbines  were  puffing  out  shots  like  flashing 
stars  from  a  Roman  candle,  the  enemy's  onset 


240     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

was  in  a  heavier  line  of  more  fatal  flame,  and  we 
were  yielding  step  by  step,  when  up  dashed 
Custer  on  a  gallop  with  Capehart's  brigade 
taken  from  the  guard  of  the  belated  wagon- 
train.  One  of  these  troopers  was  Wilmon  W. 
Blackmar,  then  a  lieutenant  and  on  the  eve  of 
winning  a  "medal  of  honor,"  afterwards  one 
of  the  most  honored  citizens  of  Massachusetts. 
Custer  at  once  set  his  band  to  playing  his  favor 
ite  charging  tune,  "Garry  Owen,"  in  order  to  in 
spire  us  at  the  front,  and  to  strike  terror  into 
Confederate  hearts.  Then  he  dismounted  his 
troopers,  and  set  them  to  gathering  fence  rails 
to  make  a  temporary  breastwork.  We  caught 
the  favorable  omen,  and  held  on  a  little  more 
courageously  to  our  advance  line.  But  more  in 
spiring  than  martial  music  was  the  presence  of 
Sheridan,  as  he  now  appeared  on  the  field  at 
the  critical  moment,  as  was  his  wont,  and  with 
Custer  and  Merritt,  and  his  own  glittering 
staff,  dashed  at  a  gallop  with  flying  colors  and 
clanging  sabres  along  the  front  of  battle  be 
tween  the  skirmish  line  which  our  brigade  was 
slowly  drawing  in  and  the  rail  barricade  which 
Custer' s  men  were  putting  up;  and  with  waving 
hats  and  resounding  hurrahs  they  cheered  us 
again  and  again,  while  the  band  played  "Hail, 
Columbia,"  all  together  raising  our  spirits  to 
the  highest  enthusiasm,  and  making  us  almost 


IN  THE  CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  241 

unmindful  of  the  air  thick  with  the  missives 
of  death.  It  was  the  very  intoxication  of 
battle,  and  it  reveals  the  secret  of  much  of 
Sheridan's  brilliant  success;  for  his  own  dashing 
bravery  inspired  his  men  with  confidence,  and 
made  them  fearless  in  the  extremest  perils. 
This  daring  ride  of  Sheridan  drew  an  increasing 
blaze  of  musketry  along  the  enemy's  advancing 
line,  and  it  emptied  several  saddles  of  the 
dashing  cavalcade;  and  it  wounded  Theodore 
Wilson,  a  too  venturesome  reporter  of  the  New 
York  Herald, — an  incident  which  Sheridan  long 
years  after  recalled  to  me  with  some  glee,  as  he 
felt  that  the  reporter  was  out  of  place.  But  our 
brigade  had  the  worst  of  the  fire,  for  we  were 
nearer  the  jaws  of  death.  It  was  the  hottest 
fire  I  was  ever  in,  and  it  was  the  harder  for  me 
to  face,  as  I  had  no  definite  place  to  hold,  and  no 
specific  instructions  to  fulfil.  Wherever  I  stood 
it  seemed  as  if  I  ought  to  be  somewhere  else. 
Many  of  our  men  fell,  and  it  was  with  difficulty 
that  I  could  help  even  a  few  of  the  wounded  off 
the  field.  Contesting  every  inch  of  ground,  our 
advance  line  was  steadily  withdrawn  by  our 
commanders  Gibbs  and  Gregg,  till  they  took  up 
and  held  a  new  line  resting  on  the  Boydton 
Plank  Road  with  Pennington's  brigade  at  their 
left,  and  beyond  his,  Capehart's  and  then 
Smith's,  all  together  forming  an  unbroken 


242      FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND  PRISON 

defence  in  a  semicircle  covering  Dinwiddie. 
The  chief  force  of  Pickett's  last  desperate  on 
slaught,  that  night,  was  thrown  over  the  open 
field  from  which  our  skirmish  line  was  just  with 
drawn.  It  was  made  with  heavy  columns  of 
infantry  greatly  outnumbering  our  thin  lines  of 
defence.  Custer's  men,  behind  the  barricades, 
waited  until  the  enemy  came  within  close  range, 
and  then  poured  upon  them  from  their  repeating 
rifles  such  a  hot  fire  that  they  recoiled  in  dismay; 
and  for  that  night,  at  least,  Dinwiddie  was  safe. 
But  what  a  night!  "Confusion  worse  con 
founded!"  Blackness  like  Erebus!  Roads  like 
a  "boggy  Syrtis,  neither  sea  nor  good  dry 
land"!  Nothing  can  exceed  the  stickiness  of 
the  clayey  soil  of  Virginia  on  the  breaking  up 
of  winter.  Our  horses,  almost  exhausted  for 
lack  of  food  after  their  life-and-death  exertions, 
toiled  along  but  slowly  through  the  mud.  The 
vicissitudes  of  battle — waged  chiefly  in  the 
woods  and  much  of  it  after  dusk — separated 
men  from  their  companies  and  officers  from 
their  commands.  And  no  quiet  came  even 
with  the  thick  darkness.  For  above  all  the 
frequent  shouting  by  bewildered  wanderers, 
"What  regiment  is  this?"  arose  the  screams  of 
the  drivers  urging  their  struggling  teams  to 
the  front,  that  we  and  our  horses  might  have 
something  to  eat  the  next  morning.  And  yet 


IN  THE  CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865          243 

in  that  blackest  of  nights,  order  must  be 
brought  out  of  all  this  chaos,  that  we  might 
be  ready  to  oppose  a  compact  front  to  the 
expected  advance  of  the  enemy  in  the  morning. 

I  worked  till  midnight  getting  the  wounded 
to  the  hospital.  One  of  these  was  Captain 
Papanti  of  my  regiment,  whom  I  supported  on 
his  horse  for  nearly  four  miles,  that  he  might 
have  a  safe  resting-place.  By  one  of  those 
peculiar  chances  that  seem  like  humors  of  fate, 
this  son  of  a  dancing-master  was  wounded 
through  both  feet,  and  some  one  said  face 
tiously,  "I  guess  his  dancing  days  are  over." 
But  he  recovered,  and  for  many  years  con 
ducted  one  of  the  most  fashionable  schools  of 
dancing  in  Boston.  But  that  night  things 
looked  a  little  dubious  about  his  pedals,  and  it 
was  with  great  difficulty  that  I  got  him  to  the 
hospital. 

Early  that  evening  Sheridan  sent  this  word 
to  Grant:  "We  have  been  fighting  all  day  with 
Pickett's  infantry,  and  with  Fitzhugh  Lee's, 
Rosser's,  and  W.  H.  F.  Lee's  cavalry.  Our  men 
have  behaved  splendidly,  but  this  force  is  too 
strong  for  us.  I  will  hold  on  to  Dinwiddie  till 
I  am  compelled  to  leave."  Grant  had  already 
suspected  our  perilous  position,  and  had  ordered 
Warren  to  come  to  our  support  immediately 
with  the  Fifth  Corps,  and  sent  word  to  Sheri- 


244      FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND  PRISON 

dan  that  they  would  probably  reach  him  at 
midnight;  but  Warren  was  very  slow  in  start 
ing,  and  none  of  his  infantry  appeared  till  late 
the  next  morning  after  our  cavalry  had  already 
been  engaged  several  hours  and  had  driven  the 
enemy  a  long  way  towards  Five  Forks.  This 
was  a  great  disappointment  to  Sheridan,  and 
it  was  the  first  great  provocation  he  received 
in  Warren's  seeming  lack  of  heartiness  in  his 
support.  At  10.15  P.M.,  March  3ist,  Grant 
gave  the  order  to  Warren  to  attack  Pickett  in 
the  rear  the  next  morning,  and  he  might  easily 
have  done  so  by  coming  in  on  the  Crump  Road 
any  time  that  night  with  the  division  which 
he  had  already  posted  at  Dr.  Boisseau's.  Sheri 
dan  waited  till  3  A.M.,  April  1st,  and  then,  as 
no  sign  of  the  Fifth  Corps  appeared,  he  sent  an 
urgent  order  to  Warren  to  attack  Pickett's 
rear  at  daylight.  Our  cavalry  was  up  betimes, 
and  began  to  press  Pickett  back, — as  it  was 
hoped,  upon  Warren's  infantry;  but  we  drove 
the  enemy  long  past  where  he  could  be  taken 
in  the  rear,  before  any  of  the  Fifth  Corps 
appeared;  and  so  Sheridan  lost  the  coveted 
opportunity  to  cut  off  Pickett's  force  before  it 
could  get  behind  its  intrenchments  on  the 
White  Oak  Road.  In  this  emergency  Sheri 
dan,  though  greatly  annoyed,  lost  not  heart, 
but  shifted  his  plans,  and  as  soon  as  the  Fifth 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  245 

Corps  came  up,  halted  them  at  J.  Boisseau's, 
where  the  Five  Forks  Road  branches,  and  set 
out  with  the  cavalry  alone  to  drive  the  enemy 
to  a  standstill;  meaning  then  to  make  a  feint 
to  turn  their  right  flank,  while  he  should  quietly 
move  up  the  Fifth  Corps  to  attack  their  left 
flank  and  if  possible  drive  them  westward, 
and  so  isolate  them  from  the  rest  of  Lee's 
army,  whose  right  flank  was  only  three  miles 
away  near  the  Butler  House  at  the  junction 
of  the  Claiborne  and  White  Oak  Roads.  Sheri 
dan  accomplished  the  first  part  of  this  plan 
by  two  o'clock  with  Merritt's  dismounted 
cavalrymen,  Custer  with  spirited  charges  push 
ing  the  enemy  back  along  the  Scott  Road,  and 
Devin  with  equal  persistency  driving  them 
along  the  Boisseau  Road  to  Five  Forks.  The 
Confederates  hotly  disputed  every  inch  of  the 
ground,  and  were  dislodged  with  great  difficulty 
from  two  temporary  lines  of  defence.  Their 
musketry  fire  seemed  absolutely  continuous. 
A  lieutenant  of  my  regiment,  Huntington  F. 
Wolcott  (brother  of  Gov.  Roger  Wolcott),  was 
sent  forward  by  General  Gibbs,  commander  of 
our  Reserve  Brigade,  to  advance  the  skirmish 
line,  and  found  many  giving  way  before  the 
terrible  fire,  but  he  did  rally  them  though  he 
was  compelled  to  draw  his  sabre  upon  some  of 
them  to  drive  them  back.  He  said,  "The 


246     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND  PRISON 

Rebel  bullets  seemed  to  strike  everywhere." 
Thus  this  boy  of  nineteen, — tenderly  reared, 
who  had  never  left  his  home  till  he  could  no 
longer  refuse  his  country's  call,  who  joined  us 
only  three  days  before,  and  who  was  now  for 
the  first  time  under  fire, — with  a  noble  scorn 
of  death,  was  humbly  doing  his  duty,  and 
teaching  greybeards  the  way  of  heroism  and 
self-sacrifice.  His  first  battle  was  his  last. 
His  young  life  was  laid  on  his  country's  altar. 
The  sacrifice  was  accepted.  O  precious  offering! 

"We  cannot  say  thy  life  was  short, 
For  noble  death  is  length  of  days." 

"Thy  youth  was  soon  perfected." 

"Being  made  perfect  in  a  short  time,  thou  didst  fulfil 
a  long  time." 

Soldier,  farewell !     (Note  13. 

I  spent  nearly  all  the  day  dismounted, 
following  as  best  I  could  through  the  thick 
woods  the  line  of  our  advancing  brigade,  and 
helping  wounded  men  from  the  front  to  the 
ambulances  which  came  up  as  far  as  where 
the  Five  Forks  Road  meets  the  Gravelly  Run 
Church  Road.  But  even  here  the  ambulances 
were  only  just  beyond  the  range  of  the  enemy's 
fire.  It  was  the  twenty-seventh  anniversary  of 
my  birth,  and  though  the  noise  of  battle  hurtled 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  247 

in  the  air,  I  snatched  one  moment  to  write  to 
my  home  a  word  of  loving  remembrance,  and 
happy  farewell  if  I  should  not  see  it  again, 
and  then  hurried  off  once  more  to  my  sad  work. 
Soon  I  came  upon  one  of  our  brigade,  a 
wounded  captain  of  the  Fifth  United  States 
Cavalry.  We  wrapped  him  like  the  rest,  in  a 
blanket,  and  bore  him  toward  the  rear  to  get 
out  of  the  range  of  the  musketry.  But  oh, 
it  was  sad  to  see  the  struggling  of  that  soul, 
tossed  as  it  was  by  a  tempest  of  doubt  and 
fear!  While  yet  we  were  bearing  him  along, 
I  could  see  by  his  ejaculations  that  he  was 
trembling  with  apprehension  before  the  awful 
mystery  of  death  and  expected  judgment.  His 
conception  of  God  was  evidently  of  a  being 
terrible  in  wrath,  inexorable  to  entreaty,  arbi 
trary  in  his  judgments,  and  unmoved  by  any 
thing  akin  to  human  pity;  and  he  dreaded  to 
come  into  such  a  presence.  His  faithful  men 
who  were  carrying  him  so  tenderly  tried  to 
comfort  him  by  telling  him  he  would  probably 
get  well  from  his  wound;  but  he  was  already 
grappling  with  death,  and  their  suggestions  of 
earthly  hope  were  as  idle  words,  and  he  said, 
"I  wish  I  could  see  a  chaplain."  I  did  not 
yet  reveal  myself  to  him,  for  we  were  still 
amid  the  noise  and  confusion  of  the  battle. 
When  we  came  to  the  ambulance-station  we 


248      FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

laid  him  down  upon  the  ground  and  the  sur 
geon  bent  over  him  to  bind  up  his  wounds; 
but  the  captain  was  more  anxious  about  his 
soul  than  about  his  body,  and  said  to  the 
surgeon,  "I  wish  you  would  send  for  a  chap 
lain."  Then  I  revealed  myself,  and  told  him 
that  I  had  been  with  him  all  the  time,  and 
spoke  a  few  words  of  good  cheer.  And  he 
said,  "Chaplain,  I  wish  you  would  pray  with 
me."  Then  I  knelt  and  with  his  hand  in 
mine  I  prayed,  thanking  God  that  he  had  put 
it  into  the  heart  of  his  young  servant  to  give 
himself  to  his  country,  and  that  He  had  sus 
tained  him  through  so  many  hardships  and 
trials,  and  now  in  this  last,  greatest  trial  I 
prayed  that  God  would  still  sustain  and  cheer 
him,  and  lead  him  gently  through  the  valley 
of  the  death-shadow  to  the  bright  regions  of 
heavenly  peace.  As  I  finished  he  said,  "Chap 
lain,  I  have  been  a  bad  man,  a  very  bad  man; 
but  do  you  think  God  will  be  merciful?"  I 
said,  "Are  you  willing  to  die  for  your  country?" 
He  answered:  "Oh,  yes!  I  am  willing." 
Then  out  of  the  fulness  of  my  faith,  and  the 
sure  prophecy  in  my  soul  that  God  was  a  God 
of  mercy,  I  said,  "With  such  sacrifices  God  is 
well  pleased,  and  they  will  cover  a  multitude 
of  sins."  This  thought  seemed  to  give  him 
some  foundation  for  a  brighter  faith.  For 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  249 

though  faith  have  wings  like  a  dove,  it  yet 
needs  some  solid  ground  to  stand  upon,  as  the 
dove  let  loose  from  the  ark  soon  returned  be 
cause  it  found  no  place  to  rest  its  feet.  But 
this  soldier's  trembling  faith  found  a  sure 
support  in  the  thought  that  he  had  done  one 
thing  at  least,  had  made  one  sacrifice,  which 
the  great  God,  whom  before  he  had  known 
only  to  fear,  would  accept  as  a  fitting  service. 
Then  I  repeated  the  Twenty-third  Psalm — 
"The  Lord  is  my  shepherd,"  and  at  its  close 
said,  "It  is  sweet  and  pleasant  to  die  for  one's 
country."  Upon  the  word  his  face  lit  up  with 
an  almost  unearthly  brightness,  as  he  felt  the 
uplifting  glory  of  a  willing  sacrifice,  and  he 
exultantly  repeated  the  old  motto  in  the  Latin 
original — "  Dulce  et  decorum  est  pro  patria 
mori" — a  line  which  he  had  probably  translated 
as  a  task  at  school,  but  which  now  he  was 
translating  eagerly  into  immortal  life. 

The  captain  was  now  quite  calm,  and  per 
mitted  the  doctor  to  dress  his  wound.  Then 
he  bade  an  affectionate  farewell  to  his  men, 
who,  he  said,  had  always  been  faithful  to  him; 
and  we  lifted  him  into  an  ambulance.  As  I 
was  about  to  depart,  he  said,  "I  wish  you  would 
stay  with  me  a  little  longer;  I  shall  not  need 
you  long."  Then  as  I  sat  alone  with  him  in 
the  ambulance  he  said,  "I  wish  you  would 


250     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND  PRISON 

administer  to  me  the  sacrament."  I  answered: 
"There  is  no  need  of  a  sacrament.  The  sacri 
fices  of  God  are  a  broken  spirit."  And  again 
he  caught  the  inspiration  of  the  thought,  and 
took  the  words  from  my  lips,  and  continued— 
"a  broken  and  a  contrite  heart,  O  God,  thou 
wilt  not  despise."  Then  again  he  was  calm, 
and  gave  me  messages  for  his  wife  and  little 
ones.  He  would  have  his  sabre  given  to  his  boy; 
and  if,  when  he  grew  up,  his  country  should 
have  need  of  his  services,  he  would  have  him 
to  be  a  soldier  too.  He  gave  me  his  two 
rings, — one  for  his  wife,  the  other  for  his  little 
girl.  He  said  they  would  know  which  was  for 
each.  Then  I  took  him  by  the  hand  and  bade 
him  "Good-bye,  keep  up  good  courage,"  and 
his  last,  brave  words  were,  "Tell  them  I  was 
willing  to  die  for  my  country." 

But  we  must  hasten  again  to  the  front  to  see 
how  fares  the  battle.  About  I  P.M.  Merritt's 
two  divisions  of  dismounted  carbineers,  under 
Custer  and  Devin,  had  succeeded  by  resolute 
advances  in  driving  in  Pickett's  whole  skirmish 
line,  and  so  had  shut  the  Confederates  within 
their  intrenchments  along  the  White  Oak 
Road.  It  will  remain  a  wonder  to  the  end  of 
time  that  this  could  have  been  done  by  less 
than  six  thousand  cavalry  against  sixteen 
thousand  of  the  flower  of  the  Virginia  infantry 


IN  THE  CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  251 

besides  two  divisions  of  Confederate  cavalry. 
But  the  greater  task  was  yet  before  us,  to 
keep  them  there  till  our  infantry  could  be 
brought  up  on  their  flank.  This,  Sheridan 
proceeded  to  do.  He  first  ordered  Merritt 
to  keep  up  a  hot  fire  all  along  the  line,  but  to 
demonstrate  most  heavily  on  the  enemy's 
right  flank,  so  as  to  draw  his  attention  away 
from  the  intended  assault  of  our  infantry  upon 
his  left  flank.  He  then  ordered  Warren  to 
move  as  promptly  as  possible  on  the  road  to 
Gravelly  Run  Church,  and  there  form  with 
Ayres  on  the  left,  Crawford  on  the  right,  and 
Griffin  behind  Crawford  in  reserve,  and  then 
by  a  left  wheel  strike  the  enemy  in  flank. 
He  at  the  same  time  ordered  McKenzie's 
cavalry  to  protect  the  right  flank  of  the  Fifth 
Corps  as  it  swung  round  to  the  left,  and  to 
drive  whatever  opposing  force  it  found,  towards 
Petersburg,  and  then  countermarch  and  assist 
the  infantry  in  its  flanking  movement.  Sheri 
dan  waited  as  patiently  as  he  could  for  Warren 
to  bring  his  corps  into  action.  He  had  tried 
to  inspire  him  with  something  of  his  own 
zeal,  but  Warren  was  offish,  and  seemed 
indifferent.  There  is  no  doubt  that  he  was 
personally  brave,  and  a  very  able  officer;  but 
his  cold  nature  was  so  different  from  that  of 
the  fiery  Sheridan  that  they  not  only  could 


252     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

not  assimilate,  but  they  could  not  understand 
each  other.  Grant  had  noted  this,  and  had, 
through  Colonel  Babcock,  sent  authority  to 
Sheridan  to  relieve  Warren.  But  Sheridan 
did  not  like  to  do  this  so  near  the  crisis  of  the 
battle,  although  his  patience  with  Warren  was 
nearly  exhausted  when  after  three  hours  he  had 
moved  his  troops  only  two  miles  and  had  not 
yet  engaged  the  enemy.  When  Sheridan  rode 
round  to  Gravelly  Run  Church  to  see  what  was 
the  matter,  he  found  Warren  sitting  under  a 
tree  drawing  a  rough  sketch  of  the  ground 
instead  of  hurrying  his  men  into  the  battle 
along  the  lines  that  Sheridan  had  already 
marked  out.  This  nettled  Sheridan  terribly. 
Yet  still  he  restrained  himself  from  displacing 
Warren,  and  resolved  to  throw  his  own  personal 
presence  into  the  scale  on  the  side  of  the 
infantry,  which  was  now  directly  on  the  left 
flank  of  the  Confederates.  In  the  forward 
movement,  Ayres'  division  was  the  first  to 
receive  the  enemy's  fire.  In  fact,  it  was  the 
only  one  that  faced  the  enemy's  intrenchments, 
as  by  a  mistake  of  Crawford  his  division 
swerved  to  the  right  as  soon  as  it  struck  Mum- 
ford's  Confederate  cavalry,  and  thus  made  a 
gap  between  him  and  Ayres;  and  the  enemy 
at  once  took  advantage  of  it,  and  began  to 
overwhelm  the  exposed  right  of  Ayres'  division. 


IN  THE  CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  253 

Sheridan  at  once  perceived  the  danger,  and  sent 
word  to  Warren  to  recall  Crawford  from  his 
too  wide  detour;  but  Warren  could  not  be  found. 
Then  he  sent  two  messengers  to  Griffin,  who 
had  followed  Crawford,  directing  him  to  return 
and  succor  Ayres.  But  more  important  than 
the  aid  of  either  Crawford's  or  Griffin's  division 
was  his  own  personal  presence  at  this  "return" 
in  the  enemy's  works,  which  was  indeed  the 
key  to  their  position.  Sheridan  knew  that 
Pickett  would  fight  desperately  for  the  pro 
tection  of  this  flank  towards  Petersburg,  and 
had  intended,  as  I  have  said,  that  Ayres  and 
Crawford,  and  Griffin  in  Crawford's  support, 
and  McKenzie  guarding  the  infantry's  right 
flank,  should  sweep  round  in  unbroken  order 
and  overwhelm  the  enemy's  left  at  this  point 
and  cut  it  off  from  Petersburg.  But  instead 
of  that,  he  had  at  hand  only  Ayres'  division, 
and  that  was  giving  way.  Nothing  daunted, 
however,  Sheridan  threw  himself  into  the 
battle  like  a  Viking,  and,  galloping  everywhere, 
soon  brought  order  out  of  confusion  by  his 
magnetic  example;  and  by  his  fiery  enthusiasm, 
his  reckless  disregard  of  danger,  and  his  evident 
entire  belief  in  victory,  he  reassured  the  panic- 
stricken  regiments,  and  again  turned  their  faces 
towards  the  foe.  Then,  taking  his  colors  into 
his  own  hand  and  waving  them  in  air,  he  led 


254     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND  PRISON 

the  men  on,  where  the  fire  was  hottest,  his 
eyes  glowing  like  live  coals,  his  face  flushed 
like  a  flame,  his  short  but  stocky  form  radiat 
ing  defiance.  And  his  superb  black  charger 
Rienzi, — afterwards  named  "Winchester,"  the 
same  that  Buchanan  Read  has  immortalized 
in  his  poem  "Sheridan's  Ride," — and  whose 
body  now  stands,  stuffed,  in  the  Museum  on 
Governor's  Island  in  New  York  Harbor,  he 
having  died  in  1878  in  his  twentieth  year — this 
noble  steed  caught  the  inspiration  of  the  fray, 
and  plunged  and  curvetted,  champing  his 
impatient  bit,  as  Sheridan  dashed  along  the 
lines,  drawing  from  the  enemy  a  blaze  of 
musketry  that  pierced  the  colors  and  wounded 
several  of  his  staff,  but  filling  the  soldiers  with 
such  enthusiasm  that  they  made  an  impetuous 
charge  upon  the  breastworks  and  carried  them 
at  the  point  of  the  bayonet,  capturing  over 
a  thousand  prisoners  and  many  battle-flags. 

At  the  same  time  that  Sheridan  with  Ayres' 
division  was  making  this  assault  on  Pickett's 
left  flank,  Merritt's  dismounted  cavalry  was 
making  an  assault  all  along  the  front,  and 
Devin  and  Custer,  at  the  head  of  their  respec 
tive  divisions,  contended  for  the  honor  of  the 
first  foothold  within  the  enemy's  works.  On 
the  right  of  our  line,  Devin's  carbineers  with 
the  Reserve  Brigade  at  the  right  centre  carried 


IN  THE  CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  255 

the  intrenchments  in  front  at  the  same  time 
that  Ayres'  division  carried  the  "return";  and 
together  they  drove  the  enemy  back  upon 
Griffin,  who,  hearing  the  hot  fire,  decided, 
before  Sheridan's  messengers  came  up,  to  turn 
his  brigade  from  following  after  Crawford, 
and  made  a  left  wheel  across  Crawford's  rear, 
and  swept  into  the  meshes  of  his  advancing 
lines  more  than  fifteen  hundred  Confederates 
whom  we  had  dislodged  from  their  works. 
And  now  Griffin  and  Ayres  with  their  two 
divisions  of  infantry,  and  Devin  with  his 
division  of  dismounted  cavalry,  are  pressing 
the  remnants  of  the  enemy  along  the  White 
Oak  Road  towards  Five  Forks;  and  Craw 
ford's  division  of  infantry  and  McKenzie's 
division  of  cavalry,  having  reached  the  Ford 
Road,  are  advancing  upon  the  rear  of  the 
enemy's  line  at  the  Forks.  The  whole  centre 
of  Pickett's  position  was  thus  surrounded  by 
an  ambuscade  of  flame,  and  most  of  its  de 
fenders  threw  down  their  arms  and  surren 
dered.  A  few  attempted  to  make  a  stand  on 
the  Ford  Road,  but  Griffin  soon  dislodged 
them,  and  they  fell  into  the  hands  of  Crawford. 
After  this,  only  a  short  stand  was  made  on 
the  Confederate  right.  Here  Custer  had  fought 
desperately  for  hours,  holding  Terry's  and 
Corse's  brigades  of  Confederate  infantry  in 


256     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

check  with  Pennington's  dismounted  brigade 
of  cavalry,  and  with  his  other  two  brigades, 
Wells'  and  Capehart's,  mounted,  tackling  the 
whole  of  W.  H.  F.  Lee's  division  of  cavalry. 
But  he  could  not  move  them  from  their  posi 
tion  till  Sheridan  had  begun  to  sweep  down 
upon  them  in  flank  and  rear.  Then  they 
cleared  out,  and  took  up  a  new  position  along 
the  west  side  of  the  Gillian  field.  But  just  at 
dusk,  Custer  with  the  co-operation  of  a  few 
regiments  of  infantry  drove  them  from  this 
position,  and  then  there  was  nothing  left  but 
for  the  cavalry  to  swoop  down  upon  the  dis 
organized  fragments  of  the  Confederate  regi 
ments  and  gobble  up  as  many  prisoners  as 
they  could  find  in  the  gathering  darkness. 
The  trophies  of  the  whole  day  were  six  guns, 
thirteen  battle-flags,  and  nearly  six  thousand 
prisoners,  while  our  losses  in  killed  and  wounded 
did  not  reach  one  thousand. 

Thus  the  most  important  gateway  to  the 
stronghold  of  the  Confederacy  had  been  opened 
by  Sheridan  in  one  of  the  most  complete  vic 
tories  as  well  as  one  of  the  most  hotly  con 
tested  battles  of  the  war.  It  annihilated  the 
right  of  Lee's  projected  line  of  defence  and 
destroyed  the  last  of  his  communications  except 
the  Richmond  &  Danville  Railroad.  It  was 
also  one  of  the  most  skilfully  managed  battles, 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  257 

both  in  bold  dash  and  deliberate  strategy. 
Especial  credit  is  due  to  the  cavalry  for  their 
part  in  the  brilliant  results.  It  is  very  much 
against  the  spirit  and  training  of  a  cavalryman 
to  dismount  and  fight  at  necessarily  great  odds 
with  infantry  solidly  massed  against  him.  Not 
only  is  there  the  disadvantage  of  the  unaccus 
tomed  position  and  movement,  but  also  the 
greater  disadvantage  of  the  short  range  of  his 
carbine  as  compared  with  the  muskets  of  the 
infantry.  Still,  our  men  counterbalanced  all 
these  permanent  disadvantages,  and  the  in 
cidental  weariness  of  long  marches  and  hard 
fighting  for  two  days  before,  with  a  heroic 
courage  and  an  impetuous  valor  caught  from 
their  admired  commanders,  and  they  kept 
their  lines  unbroken  before  the  hottest  and  most 
continuous  musketry  fire.  We  of  the  First 
Division  felt  a  thrill  of  proud  satisfaction  that 
our  men  were  first  within  the  enemy's  works, 
as  it  was  announced  to  the  country  by  Abraham 
Lincoln  in  an  official  bulletin,  "The  Five  Forks, 
strongly  barricaded,  were  carried  by  Devin's 
First  Division  of  Cavalry." 

Although  the  Confederate  defeat  seemed  to 
us  utterly  irretrievable,  yet  Sheridan  feared 
that  Lee  would  sally  out  from  the  right  of  his 
fortified  line  which  was  only  three  miles  away, 
and  make  a  desperate  attempt  to  cripple  him, 


258      FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND  PRISON 

separated  as  he  was  from  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac.  Fearing  in  such  an  event  to  depend 
upon  the  sluggish  support  of  Warren,  Sheridan 
relieved  him  of  his  command  and  advanced 
Griffin  to  his  place  and  directed  him  to  form 
Ayres  and  Crawford  in  line  of  battle  near 
Gravelly  Run  Church  and  facing  toward  the 
enemy  at  the  junction  of  the  White  Oak  and 
the  Claiborne  Roads.  But  Lee  had  no  dis 
position  after  this  for  offensive  movements, 
and  Grant  looked  upon  our  victory  as  the  be 
ginning  of  the  end  for  the  Confederacy.  The 
echoes  of  the  musketry  fire  at  Five  Forks  had 
hardly  died  away  before  there  began  a  general 
bombardment  along  the  Petersburg  lines  of 
investment,  from  all  the  batteries  and  all  the 
forts  and  all  the  gunboats  and  monitors — an 
unbroken  roll  of  thunder,  the  death-knell  of 
the  Confederacy.  This  was  kept  up  through 
the  night  till  four  o'clock  on  the  morning  of 
April  2d,  when  a  general  assault  was  made 
along  the  whole  line.  Parke  on  the  right  with 
the  Ninth  Corps  carried  the  first  line  of  in- 
trenchments,  but  failed  to  take  the  second. 
Next  him,  Wright  with  the  Sixth  Corps  carried 
everything  before  him,  capturing  many  arms 
and  about  three  thousand  prisoners.  Ord  with 
the  Twenty-fourth  Corps  carried  the  lines  near 
Hatcher's  Run,  and  Humphreys  with  the 


IN  THE  CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  259 

Second  Corps,  the  whole  right  of  the  enemy's 
fortified  line.  But  when  Grant's  lines,  con 
tracting  as  they  came  towards  Petersburg, 
reached  the  inner  line  of  defence,  the  Confeder 
ates  with  desperate  courage  put  a  stop  to  further 
advance  that  day,  except  at  the  extreme  south 
ern  salient  below  Petersburg,  where  Fort  Gregg 
was  defended  by  Harris'  Mississippi  Brigade 
numbering  only  two  hundred  and  fifty  men. 
This  handful  of  troops  with  determined  valor 
resisted  the  surging  ranks  of  assault  until  they 
had  inflicted  a  loss  of  twice  their  own  numbers, 
and  had  left  themselves  only  thirty  men  to 
be  taken  prisoners.  But  the  rest  of  the  inner 
line  of  defence  could  not  be  pierced,  and  under 
cover  of  this  resistance  and  the  darkness  of 
the  hastening  night,  Lee  gathered  together  the 
remnants  of  his  army — the  Richmond  Garrison 
under  Mahone,  and  Longstreet's  corps  from 
the  north  side  of  the  James,  and  at  break  of 
day — April  3d — had  advanced  sixteen  miles 
from  Petersburg  on  the  only  road  still  open  to 
him,  north  of  the  Appomattox. 

Let  us  now  turn  to  the  cavalry.  Tired  as 
we  were  with  the  Herculean  labors  of  Saturday, 
April  1st,  shattered  as  we  were  by  the  losses  of 
battle,  we  yet  were  started  under  General 
Merritt  at  four  o'clock  Sunday  morning,  and 
reached  Ford  station  on  the  South  Side  Rail- 


200     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND  PRISON 

road  at  ten  o'clock.  Here  we  found  that  a 
division  of  the  Confederates  had  thrown  up 
intrenchments  during  the  night  with  the  in 
tention  of  making  a  stand.  The  earth  was  yet 
damp  on  the  breastworks  as  we  rode  through 
unchallenged,  and  ungreeted  except  by  some 
grinning  darkies,  almost  beside  themselves 
with  joy,  who  shouted,  "Dem  Rebs  is  done  took 
out  two  hours  ago!"  Then  we  pressed  on  to 
Scotts  Corner  on  Namozine  Creek,  and  about 
nightfall  came  up  with  the  rear  of  the  Con 
federate  infantry  that  had  been  at  3  P.M. 
driven  from  their  intrenchments  at  Suther 
land  station  by  General  Miles  and  his  gallant 
division,  and  had  taken  the  river  road  west 
ward,  leaving  behind  their  artillery  and  many 
prisoners.  We  bagged  a  good  many  stragglers, 
but  darkness  prevented  any  decisive  assault. 

The  next  day,  Monday,  April  3d,  the  cavalry 
led  the  advance  towards  Deep  Creek  with 
occasional  skirmishing;  but  we  were  chiefly 
occupied  with  destroying  guns,  wagons,  forges, 
caissons,  and  small  arms  abandoned  by  the 
Confederates  in  their  precipitate  flight.  Arriv 
ing  at  Deep  Creek,  we  encountered  a  strong 
body  of  the  enemy's  infantry,  which  Merritt 
at  once  attacked  and  drove  from  the  ford. 
But  darkness  again  prevented  our  further 
advance. 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  261 

At  daylight  on  April  4th  we  again  started  in 
pursuit  of  those  whom  we  had  the  night  before 
driven  from  the  ford,  and  who  were  hastening 
to  join  the  main  body  of  Lee's  army,  which 
was  now  heading  from  the  other  side  of  the 
Appomattox  towards  Amelia  Court  House, 
where  Lee  had  ordered  supplies  from  Lynch- 
burg  and  Danville  to  be  ready  for  his  famished 
men.  We  caught  up  with  the  Confederates  at 
Tabernacle  Church,  where  we  had  a  severe 
fight  with  two  divisions  of  their  cavalry  and 
one  division  of  their  infantry.  As  we  had 
only  one  division  of  cavalry  we  found  it  impos 
sible  to  break  the  enemy's  lines,  which  were 
held  with  great  tenacity  as  being  absolutely 
essential  to  the  safe  passage  of  the  main  army 
of  Lee,  whose  flankers  we  could  now  see.  Under 
these  circumstances  we  fell  back,  crossed 
Beaver  Brook,  and  let  on  the  water  from  the 
dam  to  prevent  the  enemy  from  harassing  our 
rear.  [It  was  here  that  Major  William  H. 
Forbes  rejoined  us  after  his  five  months  in 
prison.  I  had  left  him  on  the  boat  that  had 
taken  us  to  Fort  Sumter  to  be  exchanged,  but, 
sad  to  tell,  he  was  taken  back  to  prison  for  lack 
of  some  formality  in  the  terms  of  exchange, 
and  was  later  taken  to  Columbia  and  was 
paroled  from  there  in  December,  1864;  but  it 
was  not  till  April  2,  1865,  that  the  formalities 


262      FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND  PRISON 

of  exchange  were  completed  and  he  was  al 
lowed  to  rejoin  his  command.  He  hastened 
at  once  to  the  front  and  delighted  us  on  April 
4th  by  his  cheering  presence.  It  was  a  great 
joy  to  him  that  he  could  be  in  with  us  at  the 
death  of  the  Confederacy.]  All  we  could  do 
now  was  to  annoy  and  delay  Lee's  progress, 
to  hang  on  the  flanks  of  his  retreating  columns 
and  at  times  dash  in  and  capture  what 
we  could.  That  day  we  took  hundreds  of 
Confederate  stragglers;  but  at  night  we  re 
ceived  orders  from  Sheridan  to  join  him  at 
Jetersville  station,  at  which  place  he  had  ar 
rived  that  evening  with  the  Fifth  Corps  and 
Crook's  division  of  cavalry,  after  a  forced 
march,  with  the  hope  of  blocking  Lee's  escape 
by  the  Danville  Railroad.  Sheridan  felt  that 
Lee  would  make  a  great  effort,  and  might  easily 
break  through  the  thin  lines  of  cavalry  which 
as  yet  had  been  disposed  in  his  front  facing 
Amelia  Court  House;  and  in  order  to  have 
sufficient  force  to  block  this  contemplated 
advance,  he  had  selected  Jetersville  as  the  point 
to  defend,  occupied  it  first  with  his  body-guard 
(the  First  United  States  Cavalry),  and  at  once 
sent  off  couriers  to  gather  in  the  scattered 
commands  of  cavalry,  and  to  hurry  up  the 
slowly  advancing  infantry.  On  receiving  the 
order,  we  at  once  set  out,  marching  all  night, 


IN  THE  CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865 

thus  making  thirty-two  hours  that  we  had 
been  in  the  saddle  without  intermission.  In 
the  early  morning  we  took  position  on  the  left 
of  Sheridan's  line,  and  breakfasted. 

General  Meade  received  the  urgent  solicita 
tion  to  hasten  his  advance,  just  after  his  men 
had  gone  into  camp  at  Deep  Creek.  Still, 
appreciating  the  necessity,  he  at  once  issued 
orders  to  his  army  to  be  ready  to  march  two 
hours  after  midnight. 

Thus  on  the  evening  of  April  4th  Sheridan 
was  preparing  to  dispute  the  enemy's  advance. 
In  a  few  more  hours  he  could  confidently  chal 
lenge  Lee  with  his  "Thus  far  and  no  farther." 
These  few  hours  constituted  Lee's  great  op 
portunity.  If  he  had  pushed  forward  at 
once  he  could  easily  have  brushed  away  the 
single  corps  of  infantry — the  Fifth — and  the 
single  division  of  cavalry — Crook's —  that  alone 
opposed  his  path  to  Danville  and  a  junction 
with  Johnston.  But  he  did  not.  There  was 
an  obstacle  in  his  path  harder  to  overcome  than 
our  victorious  columns.  It  was  hunger.  When 
Lee  determined  to  evacuate  Petersburg,  he 
despatched  orders  that  large  supplies  of  com 
missary  and  quartermaster's  stores  should  be 
sent  forward  from  Danville  to  Amelia  Court 
House,  there  to  await  the  arrival  of  his  columns. 
When,  however,  on  Sunday  afternoon  the  loaded 


264     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

trains  came  in,  the  officer  in  charge  was  met 
by  an  order  to  bring  on  the  train  (meaning  the 
empty  train)  to  Richmond  to  help  transport 
Jeff.  Davis  and  his  cabinet  with  the  property 
of  the  government.  The  officer — mistaking 
the  intent  of  the  order — started  at  once  for 
Richmond  without  unloading  the  cars,  and 
there  the  supplies  were  consumed  in  the  general 
conflagration.  This  was  a  severer  blow  to 
Lee  than  a  defeat  in  battle.  For,  being  obliged 
to  halt  at  Amelia  Court  House  and  send  out 
foraging  parties  into  the  country  round  to 
feed  his  men,  he  gave  Grant  time  to  bring 
to  Sheridan's  succor  the  rest  of  the  Army 
of  the  Potomac  and  so  to  cut  off  Lee's  line 
of  retreat. 

At  Jetersville,  Sheridan  intercepted  this 
telegram  from  Lee's  Commissary  General: 
"The  army  is  at  Amelia  Court  House  short 
of  provisions.  Send  300,000  rations  quickly  to 
Burkesville  Junction."  This  telegram  was  in 
duplicate,  one  copy  addressed  to  Danville  the 
other  to  Lynchburg.  They  were  found  in  the 
boots  of  a  messenger  who  had  been  sent  for 
ward  to  telegraph  them  from  Burkesville. 
Sheridan  saved  him  the  trouble,  and  intrusted 
them  to  Young's  scouts,  who  easily  persuaded 
the  unsuspecting  telegraph  agent  to  forward 
them,  only  we  planned  to  eat  them  ourselves. 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  265 

And  we  did  secure  those  from  Lynchburg,  as 
the  sequel  will  show. 

When  on  the  5th  of  April,  Sheridan  began 
to  suspect,  by  Lee's  not  appearing  in  his  front, 
that  he  had  abandoned  the  attempt  to  reach 
Danville,  and  might  be  trying  to  escape  to 
Lynchburg  by  making  a  detour  northward,  he 
sent  out  Davies'  brigade  to  Paine's  Crossroads 
to  reconnoitre.  Davies,  who  was  of  the  Class 
of  1856  H.  C.,  found  that  Sheridan's  suspicions 
were  true,  for  Lee's  wagons  were  already 
rumbling  along  the  Crossroads  in  advance  of 
the  army.  Davies  at  once  set  upon  them  pell- 
mell,  and  destroyed  more  than  one  hundred 
and  fifty  wagons — some  of  them  belonging  to 
Lee's  headquarters — and  scooped  up  nearly  a 
thousand  prisoners,  including  two  Confederate 
generals,  with  five  pieces  of  artillery  and  several 
hundred  mules,  all  of  which  he  started  at  once 
towards  our  camp  at  Jetersville.  Davies  found 
hot  work  enough  to  do  to  protect  his  small  com 
mand  from  the  hordes  of  Confederates  who  set 
upon  him  as  soon  as  it  became  known  that  he 
was  in  their  front,  but  shortly  the  rest  of  our 
cavalry  came  to  his  succor  and  he  maintained 
his  ground.  Thus  passed  the  5th  of  April, 
with  the  cavalry,  while  Meade's  infantry  were 
hurrying  to  reach  Jetersville.  The  Second 
Corps  came  up  at  3  P.M.  and  Sheridan  wanted 


266     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND  PRISON 

to  attack  Lee  at  once,  but  Meade  wanted  to 
wait  till  the  Sixth  Corps  should  arrive  and  so 
the  opportunity  was  lost  to  end  the  war  then 
and  there.  Sheridan  was  so  troubled  by  this 
that  he  sent  to  Grant  couriers  urging  his 
personal  presence  at  the  front.  Grant  was 
then  about  fifteen  miles  away  with  the  Army 
of  the  James,  which  was  marching  towards 
Burkesville  along  the  South  Side  Railroad. 
Leaving  orders  for  General  Ord  to  push  on  to 
Burkesville  and  intrench  for  the  night,  Grant 
started  off  with  a  small  escort  across  country 
for  Sheridan's  headquarters  and  reached  there 
a  little  before  midnight.  It  took  but  a  few 
minutes  to  persuade  Grant  that  Meade's  sug 
gested  strategy  would  give  Lee  his  coveted 
chance  to  escape.  So  Grant  and  Sheridan 
went  together  to  Meade's  headquarters,  and 
he  changed  his  orders  at  once,  and  all  were 
prepared  in  the  early  morning  of  April  6th  to 
follow  Sheridan's  flanking  strategy  instead  of 
a  stern  chase.  Meade's  desires  were  followed 
to  the  extent  of  returning  to  him  the  Fifth 
Corps,  and  McKenzie's  cavalry  was  returned 
to  the  Army  of  the  James,  so  Sheridan  was 
left  with  only  the  rest  of  the  cavalry. 

On  the  morning  of  April  6th,  instead  of 
following  Meade  in  a  useless  advance  towards 
Amelia  Court  House — already  deserted  in  the 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  267 

night  by  the  enemy,  Sheridan  struck  off  by 
the  left  towards  Deatonsville,  where  we  again 
caught  sight  of  Lee's  wagon  trains,  and  Crook's 
division  set  upon  them  as  Davies  had  done  the 
day  before,  but  with  very  different  result. 
For  now  Lee  was  aware  of  his  danger.  He 
knew  that  he  must  make  a  flank  march  in  the 
face  of  a  vigilant  enemy,  and  so  had  doubly 
guarded  his  trains;  and  as  soon  as  Crook  ad 
vanced,  he  was  received  with  a  terribly  destruc 
tive  fire  and  hurled  back  in  confusion.  Sheri 
dan  thus  found  that  he  was  not  to  be  allowed 
to  make  any  more  captures  without  hard  fight 
ing  or  skilful  strategy,  but,  both  being  in  his 
line,  he  at  once  formed  the  combinations  to 
accomplish  his  purpose. 

Leaving  Stagg's  brigade  and  Miller's  battery 
about  three  miles  from  Deatonsville  to  threaten 
Lee's  columns  as  they  moved  on  the  road  to 
Rice's  station  and  at  any  favorable  opportunity 
to  break  through  their  line  at  the  point  where 
the  road  to  Rice's  station  forks  with  the  road 
to  Appomattox  River,  Sheridan  ordered  Crook 
to  lead  off  to  the  left  parallel  with  the  enemy's 
line  of  march,  and  Merritt  to  follow,  and  both 
to  seek  for  some  vulnerable  point  of  attack 
and  try  to  gain  the  Deatonsville  road.  Such  a 
point  seemed  to  present  itself  just  south  of 
Sailor's  Creek,  a  small  tributary  of  the  Appo- 


268      FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

mattox.  Ouster's  division  happened  to  be  just 
opposite  this  point,  and  he  began  to  skirmish 
with  the  flankers  of  the  Confederate  wagon 
train,  and  drove  them  up  to  the  road  along 
which  the  train  was  moving.  But  here  his 
troopers  were  met  by  a  line  of  infantry  fire, 
from  behind  a  low  stone  wall,  that  made  many 
a  rider  bite  the  dust,  and  sent  the  whole  column 
staggering  back.  Custer,  however,  was  not 
the  kind  of  leader  to  be  balked  by  a  single 
defeat.  As  soon  as  he  could  form  his  men 
again  he  made  the  assaulting  column  more  solid 
by  doubling  it,  and  then  sent  it  off  up  the  slope 
on  a  gallop. 

There  is  no  more  thrilling  spectacle  than  a 
cavalry  charge  with  drawn  sabres,  the  scabbards 
clanking  against  the  saddles,  the  steeds  champ 
ing  their  foaming  bits,  the  earth  thundering 
beneath  their  heavy  tread,  the  air  alive  with 
gleaming  blades  and  flying  colors.  Add  to  this 
the  enthusiasm  of  the  onset  rising  at  times 
almost  to  madness,  horse  and  rider  sharing 
and  mutually  increasing  its  intoxication  up 
to  the  point  of  collision,  and  you  have  a  scene 
that  is  terribly  grand.  But  who  shall  picture 
on  canvas  or  portray  in  words  the  awful  scene 
which  I  then  witnessed  when  this  advancing 
array  of  galloping  steeds  and  fearless  riders 
was  hurled  back  by  the  belching  thunderbolts 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  269 

of  war?  It  is  like  the  proud  ocean-wave 
mounting  the  shallower  shore,  and  tossing  its 
white  crest  in  confidence  of  its  irresistible 
might,  but  as  soon  as  it  beats  upon  the  rocky 
ledges,  it  is  broken  and  hurled  back  in  forceless 
foam.  So  was  this  second  wave  of  defiant 
assault  broken  and  flung  back  in  forceless 
fragments  of  defeated  valor,  and  the  earth  was 
strewn  with  death.  Earlier  in  the  war  this 
second  attempt  would  not  have  been  made. 
The  sacrifice  would  have  been  thought  too 
great.  Even  at  this  time,  by  most  leaders  no 
third  attempt  would  have  been  considered. 
But  not  so  thought  Custer  or  Sheridan.  With 
out  a  moment's  delay  Custer  asked  for  the 
Reserve  Brigade  in  which  was  my  regiment, 
massed  it  with  his  own  troops  in  ranks  twice 
as  heavy  as  before,  formed  them  within  a  few 
hundred  yards  of  the  enemy's  line  in  solid 
front  across  the  whole  breadth  of  the  open 
field,  and  then,  drawing  his  sword  and  putting 
spurs  to  his  steed,  he  dashed  along  the  front  of 
the  whole  line  of  serried  soldiery,  his  brown 
sombrero  turning  up  its  broad  brim  from  his 
bronzed  forehead,  his  long  yellow  curls  floating 
on  the  wind,  the  ends  of  his  crimson  cravat 
flying  like  tongues  of  fire  over  his  shoulders, 
his  face  aflame  with  the  eager  joy  of  battle. 
He  seemed  utterly  oblivious  to  danger  and  to 


270     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND  PRISON 

bear  a  charmed  life  amid  the  shower  of  bullets, 
and  gave  us  an  inspiring  example  of  death- 
defying  valor.  Then  the  bugles  sounded 
"Forward!"  the  bands  struck  up  "Yankee 
Doodle,"  and  this  third  wave  of  gallant 
cavaliers  swept  forward  with  resistless  might 
and  carried  everything  before  it. 

These  stirring  events,  which  seem  to  the 
younger  generation  so  far  away,  seem  but  as 
yesterday  to  those  who  took  part  in  their  exciting 
scenes.  To  a  cavalryman,  the  sound  of  the  bugle, 
although  heard  amid  peaceful  surroundings, 
brings  back  vividly  the  old  thrill  of  battle  under 
heroic  leaders  and  with  faithful  companions. 

"In  the  hush  of  the  calm  and  peaceful  night 

When  all  is  lone  and  still, 
I  think  I  hear  an  old-time  strain, 

An  echo  from  the  hill; 
My  heart  beats  fast,  my  pulses  bound, 

Old  friends  I  seem  to  see; 
The  ringing,  singing  bugle  brings 

The  old  days  back  to  me." 

The  days  of  grand,  heroic  souls 

"Crowd  back  from  buried  years," 
And  Custer's  face  again  doth  flame, 

"And  Lowell's  name  brings  tears." 
"And  Bayard,  Buford,  and  the  rest" 

All  ride  again  so  free 
"When  the  ringing,  singing  bugle  brings 
The  old  days  back  to  me." 


IN  THE  CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  271 

"Kilpatrick,  daring,  gallant  soul, 

And  Dahlgren's  graceful  shade, 
And  Sheridan,  still  in  the  van" 
With  spirit  undismayed: — 
"They've  ridden  to  the  silent  night, 

Yet  oft  their  forms  I  see — 
When  the  ringing,  singing  bugle  brings 
The  old  days  back  to  me." 

[RICHARD  HENRY  SAVAGE — adapted.] 

But  let  us  go  back  to  the  field.  Devin  and 
Crook,  farther  to  the  left,  at  the  same  time 
gained  the  road,  and,  swinging  round  to  the 
right,  bagged  unnumbered  prisoners,  captured 
sixteen  pieces  of  artillery,  and  destroyed  four 
hundred  wagons.  Thus  our  cavalry  stood 
athwart  Lee's  line  of  march  and  separated 
EwelPs  Corps,  which  was  astride  Sailors  Creek, 
from  Longstreet's  Corps,  which  was  waiting 
at  Rice's  station.  Meanwhile  Stagg's  brigade 
and  Miller's  battery  had,  by  sharp  sabre-thrust 
and  the  rough  rending  of  solid  shot  and  shell, 
hewn  another  gap  behind  Ewell,  between  him 
and  Gordon,  thus  forcing  Gordon's  corps  to 
turn  to  the  right  at  the  forks  towards  the 
Appomattox  River,  whither  it  was  followed  by 
the  Second  Corps  under  General  Humphreys. 
Thus  was  isolated  from  the  rest  of  Lee's  army, 
General  Ewell  with  Anderson's,  Kershaw's, 
and  Custis  Lee's  divisions,  and  they  fought 


272      FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

with  the  greatest  desperation  to  keep  themselves 
from  capture.  Anderson's  division  was  ad 
vanced  to  some  favorable  ground  and  intrenched 
facing  Merritt  and  Crook  in  the  hope  of 
covering  the  escape  of  the  other  divisions 
through  the  woods  towards  the  Appomattox. 
But  Crook,  who  held  our  extreme  left  with  two 
brigades  dismounted  and  one  mounted,  cut  off 
the  possibility  of  retreat  in  that  direction  by 
overlapping  Anderson's  right,  and,  by  assault 
ing  at  the  same  time  with  Merritt,  compelled 
Ewell  to  stand  still  in  defence.  This  holding 
of  Ewell  by  our  cavalry  gave  time  for  Sheridan 
to  bring  up  the  Sixth  Corps — a  consummation 
he  most  devoutly  wished.  It  had  been  in  the 
Shenandoah  Valley  his  main  reliance  in  sup 
port  of  his  cavalry,  and  ever  since  he  joined 
Grant  before  Petersburg  he  had  begged  to  have 
it  assigned  to  him.  It  now  went  in  under 
Sheridan  with  its  old  alacrity,  and  to  meet  it 
Ewell  faced  about  Kershaw's  and  Custis  Lee's 
divisions,  leaving  Anderson  to  hold  back  our 
cavalry.  The  Confederates,  thus  hemmed  in, 
fought  like  fiends.  Seymour's  division  of  the 
Sixth  Corps  was  for  a  time  checked  and  pushed 
back,  but,  Getty's  division  coming  up,  again 
drove  the  enemy,  and  at  all  other  points  they 
had  already  given  way.  This  was  not,  how 
ever,  known  to  Ewell  till  he  caught  sight  of 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  273 

his  burning  supply  trains,  and  saw  the  drawn 
sabres  of  our  cavalry  men  issuing  out  of  the 
woods  from  which  Anderson's  corps  had  been 
driven  by  Merritt  and  Crook.  So,  beset  in 
front,  left  flank,  and  rear,  Ewell,  after  a  short 
but  heroic  defence,  gives  up  his  sword  to 
Sheridan,  and  surrenders  his  whole  corps  of 
more  than  nine  thousand  men.  On  one  of 
the  captured  wagons  was  found  the  inscrip 
tion,  "We  uns  has  found  the  last  ditch."  And 
Ewell  must  have  thought  so,  although  he  said 
little;  he  only  begged  Sheridan  to  send  a  flag 
of  truce  to  Lee  to  demand  his  surrender  in 
order  to  save  any  further  useless  sacrifice  of 
precious  lives.  Sheridan  wrote  at  once  to 
Grant — "Up  to  this  time,  we  have  captured 
Generals  Ewell,  Kershaw,  Barton,  Defoe,  Corse 
and  Custis  Lee.  If  the  thing  is  pressed,  I  think 
Lee  will  surrender." 

After  the  battle,  which  continued  till  dusk, 
our  division  under  Devin  was  pushed  on  for 
more  than  two  miles  through  the  woods  in 
pursuit  of  the  remnants  of  Anderson's  corps, 
which  had  fled  in  a  disorganized  mass  towards 
the  Appomattox.  But  it  was  too  dark  to  bag 
many  more  that  night,  and  we  dismounted  and 
lay  down  overwearied  and  went  to  sleep  at 
our  horses'  feet,  holding  the  bridle-reins  in  our 
hands.  Soon  a  terrible  explosion  awoke  us, 


274     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

and  we  discovered  a  hostile  battery  in  position 
only  a  few  hundred  yards  away  shelling  with 
"spherical  case"  the  woods  in  which  we  were 
encamped;  but  they  were  giving  us  only  a  few 
parting  shots,  and  we  turned  over  and  soon 
were  asleep  again. 

This  battle  of  Sailors  Creek,  so  desperately 
contested  by  Ewell,  so  sharply  and  successfully 
fought  by  Sheridan,  not  only  eventuated  in  the 
capture  of  Ewell's  corps,  but  compelled  Long- 
street's  column  in  his  front  and  Gordon's  column 
in  his  rear  to  give  up  all  hope  of  escape  to 
Danville.  Longstreet's  column  took  the  road 
from  Rice's  station  to  High  Bridge  closely 
followed  by  detachments  from  the  Army  of 
the  James,  and  Gordon's  column  took  the  road 
to  the  Appomattox  closely  followed  by  the 
Second  Corps. 

While  Sheridan  was  thus  cutting  out  a  large 
section  of  Lee's  retreating  army,  its  advance 
was  approaching  High  Bridge  over  the  Appo 
mattox,  meaning  to  follow  the  railroad  to 
Farmville,  where  Lee  could  feed  his  army  with 
supplies  from  Lynchburg  and  then  make  that 
fortified  city  his  centre  of  defence,  or,  failing 
in  that,  to  escape  into  the  mountains.  But 
as  the  advance  guard  of  Confederate  cavalry 
approached  High  Bridge,  what  was  their  sur 
prise  to  find  a  squadron  of  Union  cavalry  and 


CAPT.  FRANCIS  WASHBURN 


IN  THE  CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  275 

a  line  of  infantry  disputing  their  passage! 
Lee  could  not  think  it  a  large  force,  still  he 
began  to  make  dispositions  for  a  serious  attack; 
but  before  his  lines  were  fully  formed,  the 
squadron  of  cavalry  charged  and  broke  through 
his  first  line,  and  was  only  stopped  by  a  second 
and  stronger  line  posted  in  the  edge  of  the 
woods  where  our  men  could  not  effectively  use 
the  sabre.  This  squadron  of  horse  which  thus 
defiantly  threw  down  the  gage  of  battle  before 
two  divisions  of  Confederate  cavalry,  under 
Rosser  and  Fitzhugh  Lee,  was  a  part  of  a 
single  battalion  of  the  Fourth  Massachusetts 
Cavalry  numbering  only  12  officers  and  67 
men  under  command  of  Col.  Francis  Wash- 
burn  of  Worcester,  of  the  Class  of  1859  Law 
rence  Scientific  School.  He  had  lately  been 
promoted  from  a  captaincy  in  my  regiment, 
where  he  had  proved  one  of  the  best  officers 
of  the  line.  He  had  been  sent  forward  with 
his  squadron  and  800  infantry  from  Burkes- 
ville  by  General  Ord  of  the  Army  of  the  James 
to  destroy  High  Bridge.  But  before  he  could 
execute  the  order,  General  Ord,  learning  of 
Lee's  advance,  sent  Col.  Theodore  Read  with 
80  cavalrymen  to  bring  him  back.  To  return 
was  then  impossible  without  cutting  their  way 
through  Lee's  advancing  lines.  Colonel  Read 
was  killed  in  the  first  charge;  but  Washburn, 


276     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

undiscouraged  at  the  first  vain  attempt  to 
drive  back  the  cavalry  in  his  front,  made 
another  impetuous  charge,  and  this  time  broke 
through  the  enemy's  line,  and  might  have 
made  his  escape  back  to  Burkesville,  but  he 
would  not  desert  the  infantry,  who  were  now 
completely  surrounded  by  the  swarming  Con 
federate  troopers.  Accordingly  he  made  his 
third  charge;  and  in  this,  while  crossing  sabres 
with  a  Confederate  officer  whom  he  had  nearly 
disarmed,  he  was  shot  in  the  head  by  another, 
and  after  he  had  fallen  received  a  sabre-cut  on 
the  skull.  Both  General  Grant  and  General 
Ord  bore  testimony  to  his  heroic  daring,  and 
I  am  proud  to  have  known  him  as  a  fellow- 
officer  and  a  friend.  In  this  engagement  eight 
out  of  twelve  of  his  officers  were  disabled,  and 
the  rest  were  completely  surrounded;  but,  says 
an  officer  on  Lee's  staff,  "to  the  sharpness  of 
that  fight,  the  cutting  off  of  Lee's  army  at 
Appomattox  was  probably  owing.  So  fierce 
were  the  charges  of  Colonel  Washburn  and  his 
men  that  General  Lee — although  at  first  sup 
posing  it  was  a  small  force — concluded  that 
they  must  be  supported  by  a  large  part  of  the 
army,"  and  so  stopped  to  throw  up  a  line  of 
breastworks,  and  ordered  three  trains  of  pro 
visions,  forage,  and  clothing,  which  had  been 
sent  from  Lynchburg  over  the  South  Side 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  277 

Railroad,  to  be  sent  back  to  prevent  them  from 
falling  into  our  hands.  Thus  his  army  was 
deprived  of  the  supplies  from  the  want  of 
which  they  were  already  nearly  exhausted. 
And  besides,  this  delay  of  Lee's  advance  gave 
time  for  Ord  to  come  up  with  the  Twenty- 
fourth  Corps  of  Infantry,  and  so  to  cut  off  the 
last  possible  chance  for  Lee  to  escape  south 
ward  to  Danville,  and  compelled  him  to  make 
another  detour  northward  and  westward. 

The  sufferings  of  Lee's  retreating  army  at 
this  time  can  be  compared  to  nothing  in  the 
annals  of  history,  unless  perhaps  to  the  retreat 
of  the  French  from  Moscow,  where  the  element 
of  intense  cold  was  added  to  the  hunger  and 
fatigue  of  the  march  harassed  night  and  day 
by  pursuing  Cossacks.  Lee  had  now  twice 
missed  his  expected  supplies — first  at  Amelia 
Court  House  and  now  at  Farmville, — and  his 
men  kept  themselves  alive  by  eating  whole 
corn  and  such  buds  or  young  shoots  as  they 
could  tear  from  the  branches  in  their  hurried 
flight.  Years  afterwards,  in  the  island  of  Tene- 
riffe,  I  met  Col.  Robert  Renshaw,  H.  C.  '51, 
a  classmate  of  my  Colonel  Charles  Russell 
Lowell.  He  was  Lee's  nephew  and  had  been 
quartermaster  on  his  staff.  He  told  me  that 
his  headquarters  forager  came  in,  one  of  those 
evenings,  his  eyes  beaming  with  delight,  and 


278     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND  PRISON 

drew  from  his  pocket  four  onions,  more  proudly 
than  if  they  had  been  nuggets  of  gold;  and 
the  Colonel  said  they  were  the  first  food  of  any 
kind  he  had  seen  that  day,  and  he  distributed 
them — one  to  each  of  the  three  constituting 
his  mess,  and  one  to  the  darky  as  a  reward  for 
his  devotion.  Soldiers  fell  out  of  the  ranks  by 
hundreds  from  sheer  exhaustion,  and  threw 
down  their  arms  by  thousands  from  utter  in 
ability  to  carry  them.  They  were  driven  like 
sheep  before  howling  wolves,  and,  fearing  to 
be  shot  at  by  their  eager  pursuers,  many 
struggled  on  till  they  fell  to  the  ground  from 
the  combined  effects  of  hunger,  fatigue,  and 
sleeplessness.  For  at  night  they  had  no  rest. 
They  had  to  march  on,  if  only  to  get  a  little 
respite  from  fighting.  And  even  that  did  not 
save  them.  For  our  cavalry  also  marched  at 
night,  and  were  all  ready  to  set  upon  them, 
however  far  they  had  toiled  forward.  For 
lack  of  forage,  the  horses  and  mules  perished 
by  hundreds,  and  this  compelled  the  burning 
of  a  great  part  of  their  wagons,  and  the  spiking 
of  many  of  their  guns.  The  straits  to  which 
the  Confederates  were  thus  reduced  led  the 
subordinate  officers  of  Lee's  army  to  an  almost 
unanimous  decision  that  there  was  no  alter 
native  but  surrender.  Lee,  however,  thought 
otherwise.  Still  there  was  no  time  now  for 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  279 

consultation;  for  early  on  the  morning  of 
April  yth,  just  as  Lee's  rear  guard  were  setting 
fire  to  the  wagon-road  bridge  near  High  Bridge 
over  which  he  had  crossed  in  the  night,  General 
Humphreys  with  the  Second  Corps  came  up 
and  extinguished  the  flames.  This  was  a  great 
good  fortune  for  us,  as  the  river  was  unford- 
able  at  that  point.  Humphreys  immediately 
crossed,  and  took  up  the  pursuit  with  two 
divisions  along  the  old  stage-road  to  Appo- 
mattox  Court  House,  sending  Barlow  with 
one  division  towards  Farmville.  This  was 
Maj.  Gen.  Francis  C.  Barlow  of  the  Class  of 
1855  H.  C.  He  found  a  considerable  force  of 
the  enemy  here  burning  the  bridges  and  guard 
ing  a  wagon  train.  He  at  once  attacked  and 
dislodged  them,  and  destroyed  one  hundred 
and  thirty  wagons.  He  then  rejoined  the  rest 
of  the  Second  Corps,  which  had  overtaken 
Lee's  army  at  Cumberland  Church,  and  found 
it  in  a  strongly  intrenched  position.  Hum 
phreys  had  the  audacity  to  attack,  but  was 
repulsed  so  severely  that  he  waited  then  for 
reinforcements.  He  was  in  a  critical  position, 
but  the  enemy  had  not  confidence  to  attack 
him.  Night  soon  came  on,  and  Lee  again 
took  up  his  line  of  retreat,  after,  however, 
writing  this  note  to  Grant:  "General:  I  have 
received  your  note  of  to-day  [this  note  was 


280     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

brought  through  the  lines  by  my  classmate 
Gen.  Charles  A.  Whittier  of  General  Hum 
phrey's  staff]  asking  of  me  the  surrender  of 
the  Army  of  Northern  Virginia.  Though  not 
entertaining  the  opinion  you  express  of  the 
hopelessness  of  further  resistance,  I  reciprocate 
your  desire  to  avoid  useless  effusion  of  blood, 
and  therefore  ask  what  are  your  terms  of 
surrender."  Without  waiting  for  an  answer 
Lee  retreated,  as  I  have  said,  under  cover  of 
the  darkness. 

While  Humphreys  and  the  Second  Corps 
were  thus  fiercely  following  the  rear  of  Lee's 
columns  on  the  yth  of  April,  Sheridan  was 
moving  with  Merritt  and  McKenzie  towards 
Prince  Edward  Court  House  on  the  pike  to 
Danville,  while  Crook's  cavalry  went  to  Farm- 
ville,  where  Gregg's  brigade  had  a  severe  tussle 
with  the  enemy  on  the  north  side  of  the  river, 
and  Gregg  was  taken  prisoner.  When  Sheri 
dan  heard  of  this  engagement  he  decided  that 
Lee  was  directing  all  his  energies  now  towards 
reaching  Lynchburg,  and  resolved  to  throw 
his  cavalry  athwart  Lee's  new  path  of  retreat. 
So  during  the  night  of  the  7th  he  recalled 
Crook  to  Prospect  station,  and  sent  Merritt 
forward  to  Buffalo  Creek  and  McKenzie  to 
the  Lynchburg  Railroad.  The  Fifth  Corps 
followed  the  cavalry  as  fast  as  it  could  and 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  281 

went  into  camp  at  Prince  Edward  Court  House. 
Ord  with  the  Army  of  the  James  pushed 
towards  Lynchburg  by  way  of  Farmville  and 
between  the  Fifth  Corps  and  the  Appomattox. 
Wright  and  the  Sixth  Corps  built  a  bridge 
across  the  river  at  Farmville  and  hurried  to 
the  support  of  Humphreys  and  the  Second 
Corps. 

Early  on  the  morning  of  the  8th,  Sheridan 
gathered  all  his  cavalry  at  Prospect  station  and 
started  for  Appomattox  station,  where  he 
hoped  to  block  Lee's  last  and  only  chance  of 
escape  by  the  narrow  neck  of  land  between  the 
Appomattox  River  and  the  James.  Shortly 
after  our  march  commenced,  one  of  Major 
Young's  scouts  met  us,  riding  in  hot  haste, 
and  reported  that  there  were  four  trains  of 
cars  at  Appomattox  station  loaded  with  sup 
plies  for  Lee's  famished  troops.  These  sup 
plies  were  sent  in  response  to  the  telegram  which 
we  had  captured  on  the  4th  of  April  and  had 
forwarded  in  the  hope  of  getting  the  provisions 
for  ourselves.  Sergeant  White — of  Young's 
scouts — had  been  on  the  watch  for  them, 
and  induced  the  officer  in  charge  to  halt  them 
at  Appomattox.  Then  he  galloped  off  to  tell 
Sheridan.  Sheridan  at  once  ordered  that  our 
column  should  push  on  as  briskly  as  possible, 
for,  as  he  said,  "supper  is  awaiting  us  twenty- 


282     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND  PRISON 

five  miles  away."  General  Custer  had  the 
advance,  and  about  sunset  came  in  sight  of 
the  station  and  the  curling  smoke  of  the 
locomotives,  and  quickly  surrounded  the  trains 
and  captured  the  engineers;  then,  calling  for 
engineers  and  brakemen  from  his  own  ranks, 
he  ordered  the  trains  towards  Farmville  to 
get  them  under  the  safe  cover  of  the  approach 
ing  infantry  of  Ord  and  Griffin.  As  he  was  at 
tending  to  these  details,  unconscious  of  danger, 
there  suddenly  opened  upon  him  a  banging  of 
batteries,  going  off  like  myriad  bunches  of 
cannon  crackers;  but,  nothing  disconcerted, 
he  dashed  in  upon  the  gunners  with  the  men 
that  he  had  about  him,  and  before  the  other 
divisions  could  reach  the  field,  he  had  captured 
twenty-five  guns,  a  hospital  train,  a  large  num 
ber  of  wagons,  and  nearly  a  thousand  prisoners. 
These  were  the  advance  guard  of  Lee's  army, 
who  had  been  hurried  forward  to  secure  the 
trains,  and  for  the  third  time  in  six  days  they 
lost  their  coveted  supplies.  Soon  our  whole 
cavalry  corps  came  up,  and  Sheridan  disposed 
them  in  line  of  battle  with  Devin  on  the  right 
of  Custer  and  Crook  to  the  left,  and  advanced 
on  the  road  to  Appomattox  Court  House,  which 
is  about  five  miles  from  the  station,  pushing 
Lee's  advance  guards  back  upon  the  main 
body. 


IN  THE  CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  283 

At  twenty  minutes  past  nine  that  evening, 
Sheridan  sent  this  despatch  to  Grant,  who 
was  then  at  Farmville:  "We  are  pushing  the 
enemy  towards  Appomattox  Court  House, 
having  cut  off  his  expected  supplies.  If  the 
infantry  can  get  up  to-night,  we  will  perhaps 
finish  the  job  in  the  morning.  I  do  not  think 
Lee  means  to  surrender  until  compelled  to  do 
so."  Sheridan  also  sent  word  to  Ord  and  Griffin 
that  if  they  would  press  on  with  their  corps, 
there  would  be  no  escape  for  the  enemy,  who 
had  now  reached  the  last  ditch. 

That  night  Sheridan  did  not  sleep,  but  most 
of  us  got  about  three  hours'  rest,  which  was 
about  the  average  amount  for  the  last  ten 
days.  My  regiment  was  on  picket,  and  as 
our  line  was  formed  about  midnight  in  the 
thickest  darkness,  I  was  not  aware  of  the  fact 
that  we  were  encamped  just  under  the  southern 
crest  of  a  hill  upon  whose  northern  slope  was 
the  whole  Rebel  army;  and  I  have  learned 
since,  that  then  was  in  session,  within  gunshot 
of  our  line,  the  last  Confederate  council  of 
war.  There  were  present  General  Lee,  General 
Gordon,  commanding  the  infantry,  General 
Pendleton,  chief  of  artillery,  and  General 
Fitzhugh  Lee,  as  head  of  the  cavalry.  Long- 
street  was  too  busy  to  attend.  Surrender 
seemed  inevitable,  but  they  decided  to  make  one 


284     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

last  heroic  effort  to  break  through  our  lines, 
and  to  General  Gordon  was  assigned  the 
leading  of  the  forlorn  hope. 

But  we  were  all  unconscious  of  this,  and  at 
the  very  first  rays  of  dawn  were  startled  from 
our  slumbers  by  a  shower  of  shells  that  for 
half  an  hour  poured  down  upon  us,  and  made 
us  execute  some  lively  manoeuvres  if  only  to 
save  our  legs.  I  found  that,  though  it  was 
Sunday  and  I  was  a  clergyman,  it  was  hardly 
wise  to  refuse  those  pressing  invitations  to 
dance.  I  was  standing  with  Col.  Caspar 
Crowninshield  (Note  w>  and  Lieut.  Col.  Wil 
liam  H.  Forbes  (Note  15)  as  these  shells  plunged 
into  the  earth  or  skipped  about  on  the  surface, 
and  we  were  all  thoroughly  spattered  with 
dirt.  Sheridan  felt  that  this  shelling  was  only 
meant  to  strike  terror  into  our  ranks,  and  to 
make  an  easier  path  for  the  advance  of  the 
Confederate  infantry  which  would  speedily 
follow.  So  he  threw  out  our  advance  cavalry, 
dismounted,  as  skirmishers,  and  awaited  the 
onset,  meanwhile  sending  couriers,  as  he  had 
frequently  through  the  night,  to  hurry  up  our 
advancing  infantry. 

It  was  a  beautiful  Sunday  morning,  fair 
dawn  of  a  fairer  day.  The  country  was  white 
and  pink  with  the  beautiful  blossoms  of  the 
plum,  the  peach,  and  the  pear;  but  we  had 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  285 

little  time  then  to  enjoy  this  pleasant  outlook, 
nor  to  think  of  the  church  bells  that  would 
soon  be  chiming  over  the  hills  of  home  their 
call  to  come  to  the  service  of  the  Prince  of 
Peace.  Still  were  we  not  in  the  same  service, 
though  following  the  track  of  grim-visaged 
War?  And  were  we  not  to  behold  that  morn 
ing  the  gladdest  coming  of  Peace  that  mortal 
eyes  had  ever  witnessed?  Only  then  we  did 
not  know  it,  and  we  were  beset  with  ominous 
portents  and  filled  with  apprehensive  fears. 
For  as  soon  as  the  artillery  on  the  crest  of  the 
hill  before  us  ceased  its  fury,  the  Confederate 
infantry  came  striding  down  the  slope  with 
that  swinging  gait  which  had  so  often  sent 
terror  to  as  many  of  us  as  did  not  care  to  be 
shot.  We  received  them  with  as  destructive 
fire  as  we  could  command,  and  held  to  our 
ground  as  long  as  we  could,  and  then  slowly 
and  sullenly  gave  way  inch  by  inch,  as  indeed 
we  must  before  their  longer-range  weapons 
and  their  heavier  lines  of  advance.  Our  stand 
was  so  tenaciously  held,  however,  that  General 
Gordon  reported  to  Lee  that  he  did  not  know 
whether  he  was  fighting  infantry  or  dismounted 
cavalry.  Still  we  gradually  gave  way,  until, 
to  our  great  joy  and  the  Confederates'  utter 
dismay,  there  appeared  on  the  crest  of  the  hill 
behind  us  the  headquarters  flag  of  General 


286     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

Ord,  and  soon  there  blazed  up  a  bristling  line 
of  the  bayonets  of  his  infantry.  Then  we  knew 
that  all  was  well;  and  our  bugles  sounded 
"Forward!"  and  our  cavalrymen  now  in  turn 
pressed  back  the  disheartened  Confederates, 
till  we  received  orders  to  remount,  and  dash 
across  the  slope  of  the  hill  to  get  in  on  the 
enemy's  left  flank,  leaving  his  centre  to  be 
met  by  the  infantry,  who  were  now  formed  in 
line  of  battle  with  the  Fifth  Corps  on  the 
right  and  the  Army  of  the  James  on  the  left. 
Crook  and  McKenzie  with  their  divisions  of 
cavalry  completed  the  line  of  defence  to  the 
left.  Sheridan  joined  Merritt  on  the  right  of 
the  line,  with  Devin's  and  Custer's  divisions, 
and  at  once  ordered  us  to  advance  in  the  face 
of  a  heavy  fire  of  artillery  towards  some  higher 
ground  from  which  we  could  have  a  clear  sweep 
for  a  charge  upon  Gordon's  left  flank.  We 
soon  reached  the  crest  which  overlooked  a  wide 
open  valley  in  which  lay  the  proud  Army  of 
Northern  Virginia  completely  at  bay.  They 
presented  a  spectacle  sorry  enough — a  thin 
line  of  battle  made  up  of  Gordon's  troops  in 
front  facing  Ord  and  Sheridan,  another  scant 
line  in  the  rear  facing  Meade,  in  all  about  eight 
thousand  fighting  men,  and  between  these  two 
lines  of  battle  the  disorganized  debris  of  the 
artillery  and  wagon  trains  and  the  gaunt  fig- 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  287 

ures  of  nearly  twenty  thousand  unarmed 
stragglers  too  weak  to  carry  their  muskets. 
Sheridan  had  just  made  his  dispositions  to 
charge,  when  we  caught  sight  of  a  rider 
from  out  the  enemy's  lines  bearing  a  flag 
of  truce.  Custer  dashed  forward  to  meet  the 
messenger,  and  taking  the  flag  galloped  back 
and  along  our  lines  as  a  signal  to  stop  our 
advance. 

This  famous  flag  of  truce  was  really  a  towel 
which  Maj.  R.  M.  Simms  drew  from  his 
haversack  to  protect  himself  from  our  fire  as 
he  galloped  into  our  lines  to  request  a  cessation 
of  hostilities.  General  Custer,  who  received 
it,  was  willing  to  stop  our  advance  temporarily, 
but  left  it  to  Generals  Sheridan  and  Gordon 
to  order  a  little  later  a  temporary  truce  which 
held  till  Grant  and  Lee  arranged  the  terms  of 
surrender  and  ended  the  war.  It  was  of  this 
temporary  truce  that  General  Gordon  gives 
this  story,  and  it  reveals  the  utter  destitution  of 
his  command.  He  says:  "I  called  Major 
Hunter  of  my  staff  and  told  him  to  carry  for 
ward  a  flag  of  truce.  He  replied,  '  General,  I 
have  no  flag  of  truce.'  I  told  him  to  get  one. 
He  replied,  '  General,  we  have  no  flag  of  truce 
in  our  command.'  I  said,  "Then  take  a  hand 
kerchief,  put  it  on  a  stick  and  go  forward.' 
*I  have  no  handkerchief,  General.'  'Then 


288     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

borrow  one  and  go  forward  with  it.'  He  tried, 
and  reported  that  not  one  of  the  staff  had  a 
handkerchief,  and  it  was  useless  to  seek  for 
one  among  the  men.  'Then,  Major,  use  your 
shirt.'  'You  see,  General,  we  all  wear  flannel 
shirts.'  At  last,  however,  we  found  a  man  who 
had  a  white  shirt.  He  gave  it  to  us,  and  I 
tore  off  the  back  and  tail,  and  rigging  this  on 
a  stick,  Major  Hunter  bore  it  aloft  towards 
the  enemy's  lines." 

The  immediate  effect  of  this  cessation  of  hos 
tilities  was — as  maybe  imagined — very  differ 
ent  with  the  different  armies.  General  Gordon 
says  of  his  men :  "The  poor  fellows  broke  utterly 
down.  The  men  cried  like  children.  Strange 
indeed  that  they  should  have  wept  at  surrender 
ing  in  so  unequal  a  fight,  at  being  taken  out  of 
this  constant  carnage  and  storm,  at  being  sent 
back  to  their  families,  at  having  their  starved 
and  wasted  forms  snatched  from  the  hungry 
jaws  of  death!  Yet  they  sobbed  aloud,  and 
wrung  their  hands  in  an  agony  of  grief.  As 
General  Lee  rode  down  the  lines  and  saw  the 
men  crying,  he  said  in  a  broken  voice,  'Oh,  if 
it  had  only  been  my  lot  to  have  fallen  in  one 
of  our  battles!'  "  "In  a  few  hours" — General 
Gordon  continues — "in  a  few  hours  that  army 
was  scattered,  and  the  men  went  back  to  their 
ruined  and  dismantled  homes,  many  of  them 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  289 

walking  all  the  way  to  the  Carolinas  and  the 
Gulf,  all  of  them  penniless,  worn  out  and  well- 
nigh  heartbroken." 

Contrast  with  this  sad  picture  our  joy  that 
knew  no  bounds.  We  all  dismounted,  and  such 
a  scene  of  handshaking  and  embracing  I  have 
never  elsewhere  witnessed.  Some  tossed  their 
hats  and  cheered;  some  rolled  on  the  ground, 
yelling  like  Indians;  some  sobbed  like  children, 
only  with  exuberance  of  happiness.  It  was 
the  very  madness  of  joy.  I  would  confess — if 
it  were  not  so  undignified — that  on  that  Sunday 
morning  a  certain  overjoyed  Chaplain  might 
have  been  seen  standing  wrong  end  up,  his  hands 
on  the  ground  and  his  feet  in  the  air,  as  if  he 
had  actually  bidden  farewell  to  his  understand 
ings.  The  wild  cheers  that  ran  along  the  line 
told  the  story  from  rank  to  rank,  and  an  audi 
ble  wave  of  joy  swept  through  the  whole  army. 
The  long  and  anxious  war  was  over.  Our 
country  was  saved.  Home  was  near.  Our 
lives,  which  a  moment  before  did  not  seem  worth 
the  tossing  of  a  die,  now  seemed  priceless  with 
the  hopes  of  peace. 

The  terms  of  capitulation  were  soon  arranged. 
They  were  liberal  and  magnanimous,  as  befitted 
the  occasion.  General  Lee  afterwards  de 
clared:  "I  wish  to  do  simple  justice  to  General 
Grant  when  I  say  that  his  treatment  of  the 


290     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

Army  of  Northern  Virginia  at  its  surrender  by 
me  is  without  a  parallel  in  the  history  of  the 
civilized  world.  When  my  poor  soldiers  had 
nothing  to  eat,  he  issued  the  humane  order  that 
forty  thousand  rations  should  be  immediately 
furnished  them.  [General  Grant  says,  "I 
authorized  General  Lee  to  send  his  own  com 
missary  and  quartermaster  to  Appomattox  sta 
tion,  where  he  could  have,  out  of  the  trains  we 
had  stopped,  all  the  provisions  wanted."]  When 
I  was  directing  one  of  my  staff  to  make  out  a 
list  of  things  to  be  surrendered,  and  named  the 
horses,  Grant  said,  'No!  No!  General  Lee, 
not  a  horse;  the  men  will  need  them  for  the 
spring  ploughing.'  I  told  Grant  there  was 
nothing  he  could  have  done  to  accomplish 
more  good  for  them  or  for  the  government. 
When  Grant  said  that  my  officers  might 
retain  their  side-arms,  I  was  again  thankful; 
but  when  he  disclaimed  any  desire  to  make  a 
parade  of  surrender,  I  was  indeed  overjoyed 
and  felt  that  that  was  a  touch  of  magnanimity 
that  bespoke  a  great  soul." 

Grant  says,  "I  felt  like  anything  rather  than 
rejoicing  at  the  downfall  of  a  foe  who  had  fought 
so  long  and  valiantly  and  had  suffered  so 
much,  and  when  our  artillery  began  to  fire  a 
salute  of  a  hundred  guns  to  celebrate  the 
victory,  I  ordered  it  stopped;  the  Confederates 


IN  THE  CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  291 

were  now  our  prisoners  and  I  did  not  want  to 
exult  over  them." 

And  our  whole  army  responded  to  our 
leader's  magnanimity,  and  would  do  nothing 
to  humiliate  those  whose  terrible  sufferings  and 
agonizing  mortifications  were  calculated  to 
draw  pity  even  from  hearts  of  stone.  We 
respected  in  them  a  devotion  that  had  stood  the 
final  proof.  Both  sides  had  fought  with  heroic 
bravery,  and  each  had  brilliant  victories  or 
successfully  contested  fields  as  the  crown  of 
its  valor.  If  the  victors  at  Appomattox  could 
recall  a  Malvern  Hill,  an  Antietam,  a  Gettys 
burg,  a  Five  Forks,  the  vanquished  could 
recall  a  Manassas,  a  Fredericksburg,  a  Chancel- 
lorsville,  a  Cold  Harbor.  On  that  9th  of  April 
the  soldiers  shook  hands  over  the  bloody 
chasm,  and  woe  to  him  who  shall  ever  seek  to 
unlock  that  brotherly  embrace! 

As  soon  as  the  articles  of  capitulation  were 
signed,  the  two  commanding  generals  came 
out  of  the  house,  and  each  went  his  way,  but 
how  different  in  appearance  and  feeling!  Lee 
was  tall  and  stately,  dressed  in  a  fresh  suit  of 
Confederate  gray  with  all  the  insignia  of  his 
rank,  upon  his  head  a  high  gray  felt  hat  with 
gold  cord,  in  his  hands  long  buckskin  gauntlets, 
and  at  his  side  the  splendid  dress-sword  that 
had  been  given  him  by  the  State  of  Virginia. 


292     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

As  he  looked  into  the  valley  towards  his  army, 
he  smote  his  hands  together  in  an  absent  sort 
of  way,  and  seemed  to  see  nothing  till  his  horse 
was  led  in  front  of  him.  Then  he  mounted; 
and  a  sadder  man  I  have  not  seen  as  he  rode 
silently  away  bearing  the  ignominy  of  the  "lost 
cause"  back  to  his  dispirited  followers,  his 
disrupted  State,  and  his  dismantled  home. 

Grant  was  rather  short  and  thick-set,  and  was 
dressed  in  his  campaign  clothes,  which  were  all 
spattered  over  with  mud  from  his  ride  of  thirty- 
seven  miles  that  morning.  He  had  on  the  8th 
been  following  Meade  in  Lee's  rear.  He  wore 
a  sugar-loaf  hat,  a  frock  coat  unbuttoned,  a 
dark  vest,  dark  blue  pants  tucked  into  top- 
boots,  and  no  sword.  He  had  felt  very  sick  for 
twenty-four  hours,  and  had  used  the  most 
heroic  remedies  in  vain.  But  when  he  got  word 
at  noon  that  day  that  Lee  was  ready  to  sur 
render,  uon  the  instant,"  he  says,  "I  was 
cured."  Yet  three  hours  later,  when  all  was 
over,  I  could  read  in  his  impassive  face  no 
emotion  as  he,  like  Lee,  also  rode  silently  away, 
though  he  was  to  send  of?  a  despatch  that  should 
electrify  the  North,  and  set  all  the  church 
bells  ringing  with  joyous  peals  at  this  new 
coming  of  the  Prince  of  Peace  with  glad 
tidings  of  great  joy  that  shall  yet  be  to  all 

people    (Note  16). 


IN  THE  CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  293 

As  soon  as  I  could  get  pen  and  paper — which 
was  when  the  Cavalry  stopped  on  April  I4th 
at  Nottoway  Court  House  to  rest  and  refit — 
I  wrote  my  resignation,  being  desirous  to  begin 
at  once  my  chosen  lifework — the  ministry. 
Talking  about  it  with  Sheridan,  I  asked  him 
what  he  was  going  to  turn  his  hands  to  now. 
He  replied,  "I  know  nothing  but  war,  and  I 
suppose  I  shall  follow  army  life."  But  most  of 
us  were  out  of  our  element  there,  and  hastened 
to  get  back  to  civil  life.  All  of  us,  however,  were 
unaware  of  the  terrible  tragedy  that  was  then 
enacting  in  Washington. 

When  on  April  9th  Lincoln  received  the  news 
of  the  surrender  his  heart  bounded  with  joy, 
and,  with  his  usual  reference  of  all  things  to 
Providence,  he  ordered  to  be  placed  on  the 
Capitol  this  Scripture:  "Thanks  be  to  God  who 
giveth  us  the  victory."  The  next  morning — 
April  loth — Lincoln  spoke  his  joy  from  the 
balcony  of  the  White  House  to  the  multitudes 
gathered  in  front,  and  among  them  was  one  who 
said  to  his  fellow-conspirator,  "That  will  be  the 
last  speech  he  will  make."  And  so  it  was 

"That  when  the  morn  of  peace  broke  through 

The  battle's  cloud  and  din 
He  hailed  with  joy  the  promised  land 
He  might  not  enter  in." 


294     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

Alas!  the  Savior  of  the  Nation  was  to  be  its 
great  Martyr.  Only  four  days  later — April 
I4th — was  fired  the  fatal  shot.  If  the  deed 
must  be  done,  there  could  be  chosen  no  more 
fitting  day  than  Good  Friday,  that  had  wit 
nessed  the  crucifixion  of  the  great  Saviour  of 
men. 

The  news  of  the  terrible  tragedy  in  Washing 
ton  did  not  reach  our  camp  till  Saturday,  when 
I  was  making  my  preparations  for  a  Sunday 
service  of  farewell  to  my  regiment,  and  I  almost 
felt  that  I  must  withdraw  my  resignation,  as  it 
seemed  on  first  thought  that  the  war  must  con 
tinue.  But  the  calmer  second  thought  brought 
the  assurance  that  the  hands  of  the  assassin 
could  not  turn  back  the  floods  of  joy  that  were 
already  lifting  the  hearts  of  victors  and  van 
quished  to  a  new  sense  of  love  for  a  common 
country.  And  this  I  said  to  the  men  in  the 
final  service  on  Sunday,  April  i6th,  at  Dress 
Parade,  and  told  them  that  what  seemed  then 
the  darkest  of  tragedies  would  prove  to  be  the 
brightest  of  transfigurations,  and  that  Abraham 
Lincoln  would  at  once  be  lifted  among  the 
immortals.  The  greatness  of  his  character  had 
hitherto  been  hidden  under  the  homely  sim 
plicity  of  his  bearing  and  his  childlike  willing 
ness  to  follow  rather  than  to  lead.  But  this 
humble  waiting  on  events — which  so  many  had 


IN  THE   CIVIL  WAR,  1863-1865  295 

thought  his  greatest  weakness — would  now  be 
seen  to  have  been  his  greatest  strength,  be 
cause  it  was  really  waiting  on  God,  and  when  he 
saw  clearly  which  way  God  and  Duty  pointed, 
then  nothing  could  keep  him  from  instant 
action.  He  waited  two  years  before  he  freed 
the  slaves.  But  when  he  heard  the  clock  strike 
the  Providential  hour  he  signed  without  trem 
bling  the  Proclamation  of  Emancipation — 
the  most  momentous  individual  act  of  modern 
times. 

I  count  it  one  of  the  most  precious  privileges 
of  my  life  that  I  once  took  in  mine  the  hand  of 
Abraham  Lincoln — the  brotherly  hand  that  at 
the  first  Inaugural  held  out  to  the  threatening 
South  this  olive-branch:  "We  are  not  enemies, 
but  friends.  We  must  not  be  enemies.  Though 
passion  may  have  strained,  it  must  not  break 
our  bonds  of  affection.  The  mystic  chords 
of  memory  stretching  from  every  battlefield 
and  patriot  grave  to  every  living  heart  and 
hearthstone  all  over  this  broad  land  will  yet 
swell  the  chorus  of  the  Union  when  again 
touched,  as  surely  they  will  be,  by  the  better 
angels  of  our  nature."  And  I  rejoice  to  have 
held  in  mine  the  firm  hand  that  kept  true  the 
rudder  of  the  Ship  of  State  through  all  the 
storms  of  war;  the  kindly  hand  that  heartened 
the  soldiers  in  the  field  and  in  the  hospital, 


296     FIELD,  CAMP,  HOSPITAL  AND   PRISON 

wrote  letters  for  the  sick,  and  smoothed  the 
pillow  of  the  dying;  the  tender  hand  that  wrote 
the  Gettysburg  address,  and  the  Second  Inaug 
ural  with  its  "malice  toward  none"  and  its 
"charity  for  all."  But  more  even  than  for 
all  these  I  am  proud  to  have  clasped  the 
strong  hand  that  struck  the  fetters  from  millions 
of  Slaves  and  laid  firm  and  forever  in  freedom 
the  foundation's  of  our  nationality. 


NOTES 


Note  /,  page  3. — These  simple  Services  of  Ordination  at  the 
Harvard  Divinity  School,  July  14,  1863,  reveal  the  deep  meanings 
of  the  struggle  of  1861  to  1865.  In  their  essence  they  are  very 
like  the  ideals  of  our  now-united  Nation  in  the  present  world- 
conflict. 

ORDINATION 

OF   MR.  CHARLES    A.  HUMPHREYS 

To  the  Editor  of  the  Christian  Inquirer: — 

IN  that  little  Divinity  Hall  Chapel  you  undoubtedly  well 
remember  and  love,  were  gathered  on  the  morning  of  the  recent 
"Visitation  Day" — while  "the  rain  descended  and  the  floods 
came"  without — a  few  interested  friends  to  ordain  a  Chaplain 
of  the  Second  Massachusetts  Cavalry  Regiment,  Mr.  Charles  A. 
Humphreys  of  the  graduating  class. 

The  exercises  consisted  of  Prayer  and  Selections  from  Scripture 
by  Mr.  Chancy  of  Hollis-street;  Ordaining  Prayer  by  Dr.  Noyes; 
Charge  by  J.  F.  W.  Ware;  Right  Hand  by  Edward  H.  Hall, 
Chaplain  44th  M.  V.,  a  closing  hymn,  and  benediction  by  the 
new  chaplain.  It  was  somewhat  amusing,  as  the  audience  broke 
up,  to  hear  their  expressions  of  surprise  at  having  got  through  an 
ordination  in  less  than  forty-five  minutes.  I  have  been  asked  to 
send  you  the  accompanying  parts. 

CHARGE 

My  Young  Friend  and  Brother, — This  occasion  is  new  to  our 
ecclesiastical  annals,  and  there  can  be  no  one  here  who  does  not 


298  NOTES 

feel  its  peculiar  interest  and  solemnity.  The  consecration  of  a 
young  man  to  the  service  of  God  in  the  Church  always  impresses; 
but  the  service  you  now  choose  is  not  in  the  Church.  What 
she  has  to  offer  of  peace,  of  honor,  of  struggle,  you  turn  from.  It 
is  not  the  Church  that  calls  you  to-day,  but  the  country;  and  you 
stand  at  the  altar,  set  apart  by  our  prayers,  as  before  by  your 
own,  to  that  service  she  asks  of  you.  And  yet,  in  serving  your 
country,  in  taking  your  part  in  the  lot  of  the  day,  are  you  not 
serving  the  Church?  God,  who  has  guided  your  young  steps 
into  this  way  of  duty,  keep  you  in  it,  and  bless  you! 

The  work  of  the  army  chaplain  has  never  been  satisfactorily 
limited  or  defined.  I  suppose  that  it  cannot  be.  It  is  for  each 
man  to  make  of  it  all  that  he  can,  and  the  kind  of  man  he  is  will 
determine  the  chaplain  he  shall  be.  Take,  therefore,  no  counsel 
of  those  going  before  you,  but  go  to  make  your  own  place, 
watching  for  opportunity,  and  doing  your  utmost  everywhere. 
At  home,  where  conventions  and  customs  enclose,  a  man  must 
yield  to  them  somewhat,  if  he  does  not  get  overlaid  by  them. 
Your  occasions,  your  duties,  are  not,  cannot  be  limited  for  you. 
You  enter  a  broad  and  largely  untrodden  field.  You  must 
make  your  own  work.  No  man  may  do  more  than  a  chaplain 
— few  have  done  less  than  some. 

As  preacher,  your  occasions  will  not  be  many.  In  the  stir  and 
uncertainty  of  active  campaigning,  there  is  little  opportunity, 
perhaps  less  inclination,  for  the  stated  services  of  religion.  A 
brief  exhortation,  with  brief  prayer,  will  be  all  you  can  ever 
wisely  attempt.  Speak  earnestly  out  of  your  own  life  to  the  lives 
about  you.  Forget  books,  and  theologies,  and  all  nicety  of  lan 
guage — the  mere  training  of  schools — and  speak  straight  on,  and 
simply  the  things  which  shall  lead  men  out  of  themselves  unto 
God.  Exhort,  instruct,  rebuke,  and  have  faith  that  no  word 
uttered  can  return  to  you  void. 

I  have  heard  it  said  of  one  of  our  brethren,  "Oh!  he  was  no 
chaplain  at  all.  He  never  once  said  we  were  sinners."  Do 
not  be  anxious  to  call  men  that  word.  It  does  little  good. 
It  satisfies  the  demand  of  some  sects;  it  has  a  seeming  of 
piety;  but  it  never  helps  men  to  be  better.  They  want 
broad,  wholesome,  indisputable  truths  and  principles  to  stand 


NOTES  299 

upon,  to  build  from.     Give  them  these,  and  your  work  will  be 
with  power  and  success. 

Your  great  work  will  be  in  your  daily  intercourse  with  officers 
and  men.  You  are  to  teach  from  your  life  more  than  from  your 
lips.  I  say  officers  and  men.  Do  not  overlook  the  former. 
Many  chaplains  find  their  position  with  the  officers  exceedingly 
unpleasant.  They  are  barely  endured  as  an  uncomfortable 
necessity,  and  they  become  untrue  in  this  branch  of  duty  for  the 
sake  of  their  peace,  and  have  sometimes  terribly  lapsed  in  their 
dignity  and  character.  The  officers  are  a  part  of  your  charge. 
You  are  not  merely  chaplain  over  the  rank  and  file,  but  what  will 
try  your  manhood  more,  what  is  of  quite  equal  importance  to  the 
service  and  the  country,  to  the  men  and  the  homes,  you  are 
chaplain  over  the  officers.  Though  they  may  not  feel  it,  or  wish 
to,  though  you  may  be  tempted  to  forget  it,  they  are  a  part  of 
your  charge;  and  it  is  the  emphatic  word  of  one  who  has  pre 
ceded  you,  that  if  the  officers  are  not  what  is  right,  the  chaplain 
can  make  them  so — while  it  was  the  equally  emphatic  assertion 
of  one  high  in  regimental  command  to  me  lately,  that  where  the 
officers  were  right,  the  moral  tone  of  the  soldier  returning  from 
service  would  be  found  to  be  higher  than  when  he  left  home.  I 
need  not  tell  you,  then,  what  a  duty  it  is  that  devolves  on  you  here. 
If  I  were  you,  I  would  know  something  about  every  man  in  my 
regiment — not  his  character  only,  but  his  history — what  are  his 
home-ties,  his  previous  occupation,  and  what  his  future  purpose; 
and  then  I  would  keep  strictly,  not  a  mere  note-book,  but  a  some 
what  fuller  diary  for  present  reference,  and  for  after  use.  I 
would  find  somehow  to  get  at  every  man — in  some  way  get  and 
keep  an  influence  over  him.  I  think  this  can  be  done  by  a  con 
stant  watchfulness  and  a  little  tact.  The  opportunities  are  little 
and  many.  In  camp,  in  hospital,  on  the  march,  on  the  field,  find 
out  sone  way  to  do  something.  Great  occasions,  trying  occasions, 
will  come.  You  can  make  little  ones — and  you  know  what  mighty 
things  little  things  are.  That  is  the  way  with  men's  hearts. 
Where  you  can  be  of  any  use,  do  any  good,  do  not  hesitate.  Let 
position,  and  dignity,  and  convention,  and  etiquette  go.  They 
are  small  chaff  where  a  soul  may  be  helped.  Take  your  man 
hood  and  apply  it  to  their  manhood.  The  soldier  is  singularly 


300  NOTES 

receptive,  not  of  words  only,  but  of  influence.  A  very  little 
thing  will  give  you  a  warm  place  in  his  regard — a  great  control 
over  him.  In  earnest  himself,  he  sees  clean  through  a  sham; 
he  despises  all  cant;  he  does  not  want  to  be  stooped  to;  but  to 
any  hearty,  honest  manliness  he  gives  a  prompt  and  hearty  re 
turn.  He  is  singularly  childlike.  He  will  seek  you  in  your  tent, 
and  lean  on  your  word  as  he  never  would  do  at  home.  I  have  been 
surprised  to  find  the  man,  brave,  self-reliant  on  duty,  in  danger, 
coming  to  me  as  a  little  child,  and  as  he  never  would  at  home; 
and  it  is  the  general  testimony  that  those  who  have  always  been 
a  law  to  themselves — never  were  led — in  the  life  of  the  camp, 
when  not  in  the  line  and  pressure  of  duty,  become  singularly  de 
pendent;  and  the  man  who  was  at  home  always  cheerful,  in  ser 
vice  is  liable  to  depressions.  His  absence  from  home,  the  tone 
of  public  remark,  the  fatigue  and  harassing  of  the  march,  the  dis 
comfort  of  bivouac  and  picket,  the  tedium  of  guard  duty,  the 
monotony,  or  scantiness  of  rations,  the  thousand  annoyances 
and  privations  of  his  condition,  tend  to  depress  him.  The 
morale  of  a  regiment  may  depend  upon  you.  You  must  always 
be  cheerful.  Never  let  them  catch  you  down-hearted  or  timid. 
Have  a  kind,  hearty,  genial  word  for  all,  always.  Have  you  a 
good,  clear,  ringing,  honest  laugh?  Use  it.  It  is  God's  gift  to 
you.  It  is  contagious.  It  is  better  than  a  dram  to  a  fainting 
spirit.  Wherever  you  are,  and  whatever  the  strain  of  despon 
dency  about  you,  feel  that  it  is  your  duty  to  keep  a  good  heart, 
and  you  will  find  yourself  the  support  of  many. 

My  friend  and  brother!  take  these  imperfect  words — -not  the 
technical  words  of  a  charge,  for  I  feel  myself  too  young  yet  to 
assume  such  a  task,  especially  in  this  place,  where  hallowed  lips, 
long  dumb,  strove  to  show  me  the  way  into  my  work — as  an 
assurance  of  the  interest  with  which  I  shall  follow  you  into  a 
field  from  whose  duties  I  have  myself,  it  may  be  unwisely,  shrunk. 
No  man  I  so  to-day  envy  as  the  man  who  goes  out  to  this  duty 
you  have  chosen.  I  am  sure  that  you  go  to  it  from  no  impulse,  no 
self-seeking,  with  no  low  hopes  or  aims,  but  out  of  a  deep  con 
viction,  and  a  feeling,  earnest  heart.  God  will  lead  you,  day  by 
day.  Day  by  day,  your  duties  will  unfold  before  you,  and 
fresh  opportunities  arise.  In  your  quiet,  every-day  intercourse 


NOTES  301 

and  life,  is  to  be  your  success.  You  will  soon  be  known.  Men 
will  talk  of  you  by  the  camp-fire,  and  in  the  tent.  Without 
looking  for  any  marked,  startling  results,  be  sure  that  your 
honest  labor  will  not  be  in  vain.  It  will  bless  others,  and  re 
dound  in  blessing  to  yourself. 

RIGHT  HAND  OF  FELLOWSHIP 

It  is  my  pleasant  duty,  my  brother,  to  bid  you  welcome  to  your 
new  and  untried  work.  I  can  do  it  very  sincerely.  It  is  a 
rare  initiation  into  the  Christian  ministry  that  lies  before  you. 
I  congratulate  you  that  your  entrance  upon  your  calling  falls  in 
times  and  amid  scenes  like  these;  and  that  you  are  inclined  to 
push  forward  at  once  to  the  front,  where  the  truth  you  are  to 
defend  is  receiving  and  dealing  its  heaviest  blows. 

It  is  with  no  common  interest  that  Christianity  looks  upon 
this  bloody  strife.  Indeed,  she  is  deeply  and  mainly  responsible 
for  it.  It  is  those  stubborn,  inexorable  truths  which  she  utters; 
those  immutable  laws  which  she  proclaims;  those  seductive 
ideas  at  which  she  hints;  justice,  freedom,  the  sanctity  of  man, 
which  lie  at  the  bottom  of  the  contest,  and  thrust  themselves 
forward  in  every  new  battle-field.  These  are  the  mischievous  cause 
of  all  our  woes.  But  for  them,  the  country  might  be  slumbering 
still  in  her  selfish  materialism,  undisturbed  by  any  appeal  from 
outraged  justice  or  offended  humanity.  Having  brought  on  the 
struggle,  therefore — having  rendered  it  inevitable — Christianity 
is  bound  to  attend  it  to  its  close.  Having  guarded  her  sacred 
principles  through  all  their  hidden  conflicts,  it  would  be  base 
recreancy  to  desert  them  when  they  enter  on  an  open  strife, 
and  the  battle-field  is  shifted  to  a  stage  where  the  world  can 
see  it. 

It  is  with  a  purpose,  therefore,  that  Christianity  sends  her 
representatives  to  the  front  to-day.  Nor  can  she  honorably 
do  otherwise.  And  happy  are  they  to  whom  this  service  is 
assigned. 

You  will  go,  my  brother,  where  the  old  conflict  of  ideas  has 
taken  on  itself  a  visible  and  palpable  form.  While  others  view 
it  from  afar,  you  will  step  into  its  very  presence,  and  see  it  face  to 


302  NOTES 

face.  While  others  are  speaking  vaguely  of  the  high  inspira 
tions  of  the  hour,  dimly  conscious  that  such  there  are,  you  will 
place  yourself  in  actual  contact  with  them,  feel  their  mighty 
power,  and  carry  off  their  richest  teachings.  You  will  go,  too, 
for  a  short  season — never  again  perhaps,  in  this  earthly  life — 
where  the  musings  and  speculations  of  our  religious  faith  become 
vivid  and  intense  realities.  For  all  this  I  congratulate  you,  my 
brother.  Have  I  not  a  cause? 

But  I  congratulate  you  as  well,  that  you  have  chosen  to  con 
secrate  your  calling,  at  its  outset,  to  the  practical  wants  and 
living  demands  of  the  hour,  to  show  how  competent  is  the  faith 
which  you  hold  to  deal  with  man's  daily  necessities,  to  interest 
itself  in  his  common  concerns,  to  appreciate  his  human  needs,  to 
go  hand  in  hand  with  him,  even  into  life's  struggles  and  perils, 
and  if  suffering  comes,  to  bind  up  the  bleeding  wound,  and  pour 
in  the  oil  of  manly  sympathy  and  tender,  loving  charity.  So 
religion  wins  its  holiest  triumphs 

Shall  I  not  congratulate  you,  too,  Christian  minister  as  you  are, 
that  you  are  to  enter  on  the  practice  of  your  faith  where  it  will 
receive  its  severest  and  most  pitiless  tests?  where  none  but  a 
masculine,  sinewy  faith  will  do?  where  religion  must  strip  itself 
of  all  its  pretences,  and  abide  by  its  simple  realities?  must  forget 
its  exclusiveness  and  lend  itself  to  the  largest,  most  compre 
hensive  charity?  where  eyes,  quickened  to  clearest  insight,  pene 
trate  through  every  disguise  in  which  mock-piety  loves  to  wrap 
itself?  where  earnest  souls  sicken  at  all  hypocrisies,  yet  yield 
themselves  so  unresistingly  to  the  power  of  pure  and  lofty 
truth? 

And,  when  all  else  is  said,  I  congratulate  you,  as  a  man  and  a 
citizen  of  this  republic,  that  you  are  to  have  a  hand  in  the  mighty 
struggle  in  which  human  freedom,  insulted  and  imperiled  so  long, 
is  vindicating  its  majesty,  and  crushing  its  life-long  foes  to  the 
earth.  Great  will  be  your  joy,  as  the  years  pass  by,  that  you  have 
been  an  actor  in  the  historic  strife;  and  that  you  hallowed  your 
calling  by  connecting  it  so  intimately  with  the  endangered  cause 
of  human  progress. 

Accept,  then,  my  brother,  this  Hand  of  Christian  Fellowship. 
There  are  greetings  in  store  for  you,  I  know,  from  camp  and 


CAPT.  J.  SEWALL  REED,  ist  Tenor  CAPT.  JOSIAH  S.  BALDWIN,  1st  Tenor 

MAJOR  WILLIAM  H.  FORBES,  2d  Tenor 
CHAPLAIN  CHARLES  A.  HUMPHREYS,  ist  Bass    CAPT.  GOODWIN  A.  STONE,  2d  Bass 

CAMP  QUARTETTE 


y,  . 


NOTES  303 

hospital  and  field,  which  will  put  these  poor  words  of  mine  to 
shame.     But  in  friendly  sympathy  I  offer  them. 

In  the  name  of  the  little  brotherhood  whose  circle  you  now 
enter — in  the  name  of  that  larger  Church,  broader  than  all  party- 
lines,  which,  in  these  trial-hours,  is  gathering  in  its  converts  by 
thousands — in  the  name,  higher  and  holier  still,  of  that  humanity 
to  whose  sacred  cause  you  consecrate  your  fresh  strength  to-day — 
I  bid  you  welcome  to  your  labors.  May  God's  blessing  rest  upon 
them,  and  your  best  hopes  be  amply  fulfilled! 

Note  2,  page  4. — Photograph  of  Camp  of  Second  Massachu 
setts  Cavalry  at  Vienna,  Va.  Field  and  Staff  Officers'  Tents. 
Chaplain.  Major  Forbes.  Colonel  Crowninshield.  Adjutant 
Kinne.  Surgeon.  Line  Officers' Tents.  Company  Tents. 

Note  3,  page  4. — In  the  Harvard  Glee  Club  I  had  sung  first 
bass,  and  in  our  extemporized  quartette  in  camp  I  took  the  same 
part,  with  Capt.  Goodwin  A.  Stone,  H.  C.  1862,  as  second 
bass,  Maj.  William  H.  Forbes,  H.  C.  1861,  as  second  tenor,  and 
Capt.  J.  Sewall  Reed  as  first  tenor  till  he  was  killed  at  Draines- 
ville,  February  22,  1864,  when  Lieut.  J.  S.  Baldwin  took  his 
place. 

Note  4,  page  5. — The  books  sent  by  my  dear  friend  Rev.  Henry 
Wilder  Foote  of  King's  Chapel  were  about  two  hundred  volumes, 
some  of  them  elegantly  bound.  They  were  in  response  to  his 
appeal  to  his  parishioners,  who  also  contributed  as  many  maga 
zines.  The  books  were  not  only  well  bound,  but  of  a  distinctly 
high  order.  I  could  furnish  to  my  men  the  works  of  the  poets — 
Hood,  Wordsworth,  Tennyson,  Longfellow,  Whittier,  Holmes, 
and  Lowell,  and  in  dramatic  poetry,  Shakespeare.  In  history 
I  had  Gibbon  and  Macaulay,  Sparks  and  Bancroft.  In  fiction 
I  had  Dickens  and  Scott  and  Thackeray  and  Bulwer  and  Bronte 
and  Irving  and  a  host  of  others. 

Note  5,  page  10. — My  young  friend,  and  neighbor  on  Humphreys 
Street,  Dorchester,  Samuel  Groom,  son  of  Thomas  Groom,  the 


304  NOTES 

well-remembered  stationer  of  State  Street,  sent  me  in  a  single 
large  box — twelve  sets  of  Magic  Divination  Cards,  four  wood 
puzzles,  three  boxes  of  jackstraws,  ten  wire  puzzles,  twelve 
Solitaire  boards  made  by  his  own  hands  with  the  help  of 
his  younger  brother  John,  twelve  boxes  of  marbles  for  use 
on  the  Solitaire  boards,  six  boxes  of  wooden  dominoes, 
three  games  of  Authors,  twelve  Chinese  puzzles,  twelve  checker 
boards  made  of  pasteboard,  twelve  boxes  of  counters,  two  wooden 
checker-boards  and  two  boxes  of  checkers,  twenty  jew's-harps, 
one  set  of  chessmen,  eleven  boxes  of  card  dominoes,  an  abun 
dance  of  pencils  and  pens  and  notepaper  and  envelopes,  and  some 
books  and  magazines — withal  a  splendid  contribution  to  the 
entertainment  of  the  soldiers. 

Note  6,  page  n. — It  was  in  the  yearning  of  Governor  Andrew's 
great  heart  towards  a  race  in  bondage  that  he  found  a  brave 
coadjutor  in  my  college  classmate  Robert  Gould  Shaw,  a  boy  of 
twenty-three,  born  in  Boston  and  brought  up  in  a  family  that 
for  many  years  had  been  devoted  to  efforts  for  the  emancipation 
of  the  blacks.  So  his  mind  was  clear,  and  his  heart  was  aglow, 
as  to  his  duty  to  assist  in  every  possible  way  to  redeem  a  race  of 
slaves.  His  only  hesitancy  was  his  youth  and  inexperience.  He 
had  enlisted  as  a  private  in  the  New  York  Seventh  Regiment  on 
the  day  of  the  first  bloodshed  in  Baltimore.  He  was  soon  com 
missioned  Second  Lieutenant  in  the  Second  Massachusetts 
Infantry  Volunteers,  and  rose  to  a  captaincy  within  a  year, 
having  shared  in  all  the  battles  in  which  this  regiment  was  en 
gaged.  Early  in  1863,  Governor  Andrew  offered  him  the  colonelcy 
of  the  first  colored  regiment  to  be  raised  in  Massachusetts.  He 
at  first  declined,  in  the  modest  consciousness  of  inability  for  so 
important  a  post.  But  soon  after,  he  accepted  the  appointment, 
and  said:  "What  I  shall  have  to  do  is  to  prove  that  the  negro 
can  be  a  good  soldier.  I  shall  not  be  frightened  out  of  it  by  its 
unpopularity."  "If  the  raising  of  the  colored  troops  prove  such 
a  benefit  to  the  country  and  to  the  blacks  as  I  pray  and  hope, 
I  shall  thank  God  a  thousand  times  that  I  was  led  to  take  my 
share  in  it."  We  all  felt  that  in  thus  accepting  the  leadership 
of  a  colored  regiment,  Shaw  not  only  championed  an  unpopular 


NOTES  305 

cause  at  the  North  but  made  himself  an  outlaw  with  the  Con 
federate  authorities.  And  indeed  they  passed  an  act  in  their 
Congress  declaring  that  any  white  officer  captured  while  in  com 
mand  of  negroes  should  be  executed  as  a  felon.  I  well  remember 
the  day,  May  28,  1863,  that  Shaw  led  his  regiment  from  Boston; 
how  proud  I  was  of  his  heroic  bearing;  how  sad  I  was  at  his 
probable  fate.  And  it  came  full  soon.  Leading  his  men  in  the 
charge  against  Fort  Wagner,  he  fell  with  them  just  at  the  en 
trance  of  the  fortress. 

"  Right  in  the  van 
On  the  red  rampart's  slippery  swell, 
With  heart  that  beat  a  charge,  he  fell 
Forward  as  fits  a  man." 

QAMES  RUSSELL  LOWELL.] 

"He  and  his  dusky  braves  one  moment  stood,  and  then 
Drave  through  that  cloud  of  purple  steel  and  flame 
Which  wrapt  him,  held  him,  gave  him  not  again, 
But  in  its  trampled  ashes  left  to  Fame 
An  everlasting  name." 

[T.  B.  ALDRICH.] 

He  was  ignominiously  buried  in  the  trench  "with  his  niggers," 
as  the  Rebels  scornfully  declared.  But  this  ignominy  of  the 
trench  was,  like  the  ignominy  of  the  cross,  transformed  into  im 
mortal  glory,  and  now  he  stands  out  as  an  ideal  knight,  the 
champion  of  a  race  redeemed. 


Note  7,  page  25. — Herman  Melville  was  born  in  New  York  City 
August  i,  1819,  went  to  sea  in  1837,  and  after  many  adventures 
in  the  islands  of  the  Pacific  returned  to  Boston  in  1844.  He 
published  "Typee"  in  1846  and  "Omoo"  in  1847.  In  1847  he 
married  Elizabeth,  daughter  of  Chief  Justice  Shaw.  In  1851 
he  published  "Moby  Dick,"  a  classic  among  whaling  stories, 
and  in  later  years  nearly  a  dozen  others.  He  died  in  New 
York,  September  28,  1891.  His  widow  died  in  Boston,  July 
3i,  1906- 


306  NOTES 

Note  8,  page  54. — This  is  the  picture  of  Bartlett  that  I  sent 
to  Sculptor  French,  and  which  he  acknowledged  thus: — 

GLENDALE,  MASS. 

July  30,  1902. 

Dear  Mr.  Humphreys, — The  photograph  came  safely  and  is  a 
very  valuable  addition  to  the  material  I  have  to  work  from  in 
moulding  the  statue  of  General  Bartlett.  Thank  you  very 
much  not  only  for  sending  this  to  me,  but  for  the  kindly  interest 
you  have  always  taken  in  my  doings. 

With  much  regard  I  remain 

Faithfully  yours, 

DANIEL  C.  FRENCH. 

This  was  Whittier's  most  worthy  tribute  to  Bartlett: — 
WILLIAM   FRANCIS  BARTLETT 
Born  June  6,  184.0. 

As  Galahad  pure,  as  Merlin  sage, 
What  worthier  knight  was  found 

To  grace  in  Arthur's  golden  age 
The  fabled  Table  Round? 

A  voice,  the  battle's  trumpet-note, 

To  welcome  and  restore; 
A  hand,  that  all  unwilling  smote, 

To  heal  and  build  once  more! 

A  soul  of  fire,  a  tender  heart 

Too  warm  for  hate,  he  knew 
The  generous  victor's  graceful  part 

To  sheathe  the  sword  he  drew. 

Note  9,  pages  83—85. — An  address  given  in  the  First  Church, 
Dorchester,  June  19,  1864,  commemorative  of  Walter  Hum 
phreys,  by  Rev.  Nathaniel  Hall: — 

On  the  soil  of  Virginia,  near  one  of  the  fields  recently  swept 
by  the  storm  of  battle,  is  a  freshly-made  grave,  bearing  on  its 
head-board  this  inscription: — "Private  WALTER  HUMPHREYS, 
Co.  A,  I3th  Mass.  Volunteers."  [This  head-board  soon  dis 
appeared  and  the  grave  is  "unknown."]  We  gather,  in  heart,  this 


BREVET    MAJ.   GEN.   WILLIAM    F.   BARTLETT 


NOTES  307 

afternoon,  around  that  distant  grave.  We  come  to  pay  a  tribute 
of  honoring  affection  to  the  memory  of  him  whom  that  inscription 
designates;  to  recall  the  more  recent  incidents  of  his  brief  career; 
to  depict  the  leading  features  of  his  character  and  life;  to  speak 
of  him  in  words  of  simplicity  and  truth, — less  to  honor  him  than 
to  benefit  ourselves.  It  is  fitting  we  should  do  this.  Born 
and  reared  among  us;  until  war  sounded  its  clarion  trump — 
sounded  it,  as  he  felt,  for  him — hardly  leaving  his  native  village; 
here  presented,  in  infancy,  for  baptism;  these  walls  the  witness, 
from  childhood  up,  of  his  listening  presence;  the  Sunday-school 
enrolling  him,  early  and  late,  among  its  cherished  members, — it 
is  fitting  he  should  be  thus  remembered  by  us,  were  there  not 
the  added  and  appealing  claim  that  he  has  given  his  life  in  our 
behalf,  that  he  sleeps  in  a  patriot's  grave.  Had  his  body  re 
turned  to  us  for  burial,  we  should  have  yielded  above  it  public 
tribute — as  we  have  over  those  of  our  brothers  and  sons  who  fell 
before  him,  in  the  same  holy  cause.  Why  withhold  such  tribute 
because  his  body  rests  afar?  Nay,  we  will  not  withhold  it.  His 
relations  to  our  country's  conflict,  to  our  church,  to  ourselves — 
above  all,  his  private  worth  and  his  Christian  example,  urge 
to  its  bestowal. 

WALTER  HUMPHREYS  was  born  on  the  4th  of  July,  1842 — 
auspicious  day  on  which  to  begin  a  life  that  was  to  be  laid  down, 
in  the  flower  and  beauty  of  it,  for  the  cause  of  freedom  and  the 
rights  of  man.  Little  thought  we,  at  that  time  of  national 
prosperity  and  peace,  that  ere  that  cradled  babe  should  have 
reached  his  majority,  his  arm  would  be  needed,  with  a  million 
more,  to  strike  in  defence  of  the  nation's  imperilled  liberties  and 
life.  His  childhood  and  youth  were  unmarked  by  extraordinary 
incident.  Home  and  school,  work  and  play,  express  the  main 
diversifications  of  those  swiftly,  but  calmly,  speeding  years. 
Nor  was  there  anything  remarkable  in  the  gradual  developments 
of  his  inner  life;  save  that,  beyond  most,  there  was  in  him,  and 
more  and  more  noticeable,  as  characteristic  traits,  a  singleness  of 
mind,  a  sincerity  of  heart,  an  honesty  of  purpose,  truthfulness, 
docility,  sobriety,  a  sense  of  responsibleness,  a  conscientious 
fidelity.  "He  was  the  most  conscientious,"  says  his  father,  "of 
all  my  children";  the  full  worth  of  which  eulogy  they  only  can 


308  NOTES 

estimate  who  have  known  those  on  whom  the  comparison  is 
based.  How  far  these  qualities  were  referable  to  implanted 
tendencies  of  nature,  and  how  far  to  influences  of  education,  He 
alone  knows  who  sees,  with  omniscient  eye,  those  subtlest  of  all 
workings  which  attach  to  the  formative  period  of  moral  charac 
ter; — though,  doubtless,  the  ancestral  head-stream  whence  flowed 
his  life  had  much  to  do  in  giving  it  its  puritanic  type  of  excel 
lence,  as  had  the  domestic  and  social  influences  into  which  he 
was  born,  in  nurturing  and  shaping  it. 

He  became  early  interested,  and  more  and  more  as  mind 
and  heart  unfolded,  in  questions  of  moral  reform,  and  took  such 
active  part  as  a  youth  may,  but  as  few  comparatively  do,  in 
their  advocacy  and  promotion.  He  exhibited  in  himself  a  worthy 
specimen  of  that  product  of  distinctive  New  England  culture 
and  training,  which  consists  in  an  intelligent  apprehension  of 
great  public  movements,  and  an  earnest  interest  in  them,  long 
before  the  time  of  constitutional  citizenship.  With  nothing  of 
an  unbecoming  forwardness — at  the  farthest  remove  from  this — 
he  did  not  shrink  from  committing  himself,  among  his  associates, 
to  any  cause  his  convictions  led  to  the  approval  of,  nor  to  any 
course  with  reference  to  it  which  seemed  right  and  obligatory. 
The  remark  has  especial  application  to  his  connection  with  the 
Temperance  Reform,  in  whose  organized  and  active  ranks  heart 
and  conscience  led  him  to  an  early  enlistment,  and  his  fidelity 
to  which  no  after  "enlistment"  served  to  lessen.  His  convictions 
of  its  importance,  his  sense  of  responsibility,  and  ever-wakeful 
conscientiousness,  constrained  him  to  work  for  it,  whenever  he 
saw,  or  thought  he  saw,  a  rightfully  available  opportunity,  or  a 
possibly  impressible  subject.  He  was  not  content,  as  too  many 
are,  with  what  the  mere  example  of  abstinence  may  effect,  in 
this  cause.  The  example,  indeed,  is  much.  Argument  and 
appeal  go  but  for  little  where  it  is  wanting.  But  better  both, — 
the  persuasion  of  life  and  lip,  of  deed  and  word;  life  and  deed 
yielding  authority  and  emphasis  to  lip  and  word.  It  is  not  for 
me  to  speak  of  the  comparative  worth  of  organized  action,  in 
this  Reform,  and  that  which  is  private  and  personal;  but  I  am 
moved  to  say  that  where  the  object  is  the  rescue  of  the  individual, 
private  and  personal  and  unofficial  action,  in  a  spirit  of  friendli- 


PRIVATE   WALTER   HUMPHREYS 


U  U  t  V  .  0  Lr 
C  u  L I  lr  0  U  K  I  u 


NOTES  309 

ness  and  sympathy,  must,  beyond  all  other,  be  effective  to  its 
end.  Such,  I  understand,  was  one  of  the  ways  in  which  the 
conscientiousness  of  our  young  brother  showed  itself,  in  relation 
to  this  particular  Reform.  And  it  seems  to  me  worthy  an  espe 
cial  mention,  as  being  so  rarely  found,  in  young  or  old.  We  do 
not  enough  consider,  any  of  us,  our  responsibility  for  the  use  of 
opportunities  given  in  the  ordinary  relations  and  passing  inter 
courses  of  life,  for  such  word  of  counsel,  warning,  encouragement, 
as  we  may  be  competent  to  speak.  Conventionalisms,  timidity, 
distrustfulness,  restrain  and  bind  us. 

The  war  found  him  a  youth  of  eighteen,  engaged  in  a  regular 
occupation.  Its  call  came  to  him  too  loudly,  at  last,  too  per 
sonally,  to  be  resisted.  He  heard  in  it  the  call  of  country,  of 
freedom,  of  justice,  of  humanity.  The  voice  within  said,  "Go." 
That  voice,  ever  imperative  with  him,  he  of  course  obeyed. 
Considerations  of  a  personal  nature  would  have  held  him  back. 
Natural  tendencies  and  dispositions — tastes,  temperament — said, 
"Stay."  The  sense  of  duty  was  too  strong  for  them.  Patriot 
ism,  humanity,  pleaded  too  persuasively  in  the  recesses  of  his 
heart.  I  think  I  am  not  saying  too  much  when  I  say  that  none 
have  gone  forth  to  our  great  conflict  with  purer  or  more  disin 
terested  motives.  Nothing,  I  am  sure,  would  have  taken  him 
from  the  peaceful  conditions,  so  consonant  with  his  nature,  in 
which  his  lot  was  cast,  to  enter  upon  the  arena  of  military  life, 
to  assume  the  bearing,  to  endure  the  notoriety,  to  follow  the 
pursuits  of  the  soldier, — nothing  less  would  have  done  it  than 
the  stern  urgency  of  principle,  than  the  divine  persuasives  of 
sentiment.  With  many  who  enlist,  as  we  know,  a  natural  sus- 
ceptibleness  to  martial  attractions,  a  love  of  change,  of  adven 
ture,  of  distinction,  of  approbation,  mingles  with  higher  motives, 
even  where  higher  motives  are  predominant.  I  think  that  with 
him  they  mingled  not  at  all. 

He  went.  He  bade  "good-bye"  to  home  and  friends,  and 
turned,  with  manly  heart,  to  meet  the  unknown  fate  awaiting 
him  in  the  then  hotly-waging  contest.  What  a  magnet — how 
potent — the  war  has  been,  to  attract  into  conscious  and  manifest 
life  the  latent  heroism  of  our  homes!  From  beneath  how  many 
a  lowly  roof,  and  stately  too,  have  issued  youthful  forms,  clad 


3 10  NOTES 

and  armed  for  camp  and  field — forms  that  had  never  known 
privation,  hardship,  sacrifice, — ready,  hastening,  to  encounter 
them; — encountering  them  with  unflinching  and  uncomplaining 
heart;  passing,  as  by  a  bound,  from  the  softness  of  youth  into 
the  gristle  of  moral  manhood;  surprising  us  into  the  knowledge 
that  our  boys  are  heroes!  What  a  school  for  individual  unfolding 
has  the  war  afforded!  What  a  training-ground,  in  other  than 
the  military  sense!  What  instances  have  gleamed,  through  its 
smoke  and  dust,  upon  our  half-believing  vision,  of  intellectual 
and  moral  development  and  growth, — what  revelations  of  char 
acter,  power,  nobility,  enforced  by  its  incentives,  opportunities, 
appeals!  "Are  not  such  instances  exceptions?"  Doubtless, 
and  rare  ones,  too.  But  they  exist.  Many  a  heart,  watching 
from  far-off  homes,  can  point  to  them;  their  earlier  solicitudes 
brightening  into  hopes,  their  fears  ending  in  thankfulness.  The 
war  did,  I  judge,  for  our  brother — its  incentives,  opportunities, 
appeals — what  years  of  ordinary  experience  would  have  failed  to 
do,  in  bringing  out  and  maturing  faculty  and  trait,  and  lifting 
him  towards  the  height  of  a  true  manhood. 

Enlisting,  as  a  private,  in  the  I3th  Mass.,  then  in  the  field, 
in  active  service,  he  left  home,  in  the  August  of  '62,  to  join  it. 
It  was  with  much  difficulty,  and  after  days  of  fatiguing  travel, 
that  he  found  his  regiment;  pressing  forward,  as  it  was,  with 
the  rest  of  the  army  of  the  Potomac,  under  Gen.  Pope,  in  his 
attempt  against  Richmond.  He  came  up  with  it  to  find  its 
advance  changed  to  a  retreat,  in  rapid  and  excited  movement, 
before  the  enemy;  necessitating  for  him,  in  addition  to  what  he 
had  previously  endured,  seven  days  of  still  more  wearing  and 
intense  fatigue.  The  result  was  physical  exhaustion  to  a  degree 
disabling  him  from  duty,  and  sending  him  into  a  hospital,  in 
Philadelphia.  After  being  there  for  some  time  as  patient,  he 
was  made  Ward  Master  within  it,  and  for  many  months  served 
in  that  capacity;  his  impaired  health  excluding  him  from  camp 
and  field,  but  enabling  him  to  much  humble  usefulness.  So 
feeble  was  he  for  a  time  that  it  was  proposed  to  him  to  obtain  a 
discharge  and  return  home;  but  he  preferred  to  remain  at  his 
providentially  assigned  post,  in  hope  of  being  able  to  rejoin  his 
regiment;  which  at  last  he  did.  His  stay  at  the  hospital  was 


NOTES  3  1 1 

made  useful  above  and  beyond  the  discharge  of  prescribed  duty. 
In  how  many  ways  and  to  what  extent  we  know  not;  but  we 
know  that  his  conscientiousness  led  him,  there,  as  every  where, 
to  make  use  of  all  available  opportunities  for  doing  good,  while 
his  example  of  genuine  and  unpretending  goodness  told  upon  all 
who  were  brought  in  contact  with  him.  He  exhibited,  while  a 
patient,  the  strength  and  radicalness  of  his  temperance  principles, 
in  refusing  to  take  spirits,  though  prescribed  by  his  surgeon;  as 
also,  afterwards,  his  benevolent  interest  in  the  cause,  by  originat 
ing  and  organizing  a  total  abstinence  society  among  the  inmates 
of  the  hospital,  of  which  he  was  one  of  the  leading  officers. 

He  left  the  hospital  in  December,  and  went  into  camp,  at  the 
winter-quarters  of  his  regiment,  in  Virginia;  and  towards  the  last 
of  April  started  with  it,  on  the  great  campaign,  yet  in  progress, 
under  Gen.  Grant.  In  a  letter  to  his  brother,  dated  May  3d, 
he  speaks  of  the  momentous  character  of  the  campaign  they 
were  commencing,  in  its  possible  issues  and  certain  dangers, 
and  adds,  "If  it  should  so  happen  that  I  should  not  again  write, 
that  I  should  offer  myself  up  on  my  country's  altar,  believe  that 
I  was  faithful,  and  that  I  faltered  not  in  danger.  Don't  allow 
the  folks  to  take  an  undue  amount  of  anxiety  in  regard  to  my 
welfare,  and  if  it  should  so  happen  that  I  fall,  try  to  make  them 
consider  how  honorable  the  death.  I  am  very  cheerful  and  con 
tented."  They  were  pencilled  and  hurried  lines,  written  at 
night,  in  the  expectation  of  starting  at  daybreak.  He  ends 
them  thus,  "May  God  crown  our  efforts  with  success."  May 
nth,  he  writes  to  his  father,  from  a  just  contested  field,  "I  am 
still  safe.  A  great  battle  has  been  raging  for  six  days.  I  have 
been  in  the  midst  of  it,  have  been  engaged  in  several  charges, 
but  have  not  been  wounded.  Terrible  was  the  storm  of  cannon 
and  musketry  yesterday.  I  was  not  engaged  with  a  musket, 
but  was  detailed  to  carry  ammunition,  in  the  midst  of  shot  and 
shell.  A  great  many  have  been  killed  and  wounded."  May 
15th,  he  writes  to  his  brother  from  Spottsylvania,  giving  a  brief 
account  of  what  had  transpired  in  the  last  few  days,  and  express 
ing  himself  in  terms  of  tender  endearment  toward  those  at 
home.  The  day  was  Sunday,  and  he  says,  "Tell  them,  that 
though  I  am  not  sitting  with  them  at  church  to-day,  I  am  sitting 


312  NOTES 

in  the  broad  Church  of  Nature,  where  I  can  commune  with  my 
self  about  heavenly  things."  A  week  after,  May  22d,  he  again 
writes,  reporting  an  advance  from  Spottsylvania  to  Guiney's 
Station,  and  speaking  of  his  good  physical  condition,  with  the 
exception  of  foot-soreness,  from  incessant  marches.  "Our 
Lieut.  General,"  he  says,  "does  not  rest  after  one  day's  engage 
ment  with  the  enemy,  but  still  presses  him  before  us."  "We 
proceeded  yesterday,"  he  writes,  "for  some  distance  on  the 
Fredericksburg  and  Richmond  railroad.  I  assure  you  it  was 
cheering  to  think,  as  I  stepped  from  sleeper  to  sleeper,  that  I 
was  on  the  direct  road  to  Richmond."  This  was  the  last  letter 
received  from  him.  June  1st,  eight  days  from  the  date  of  it, 
while  moving  forward,  with  his  brigade,  under  fire  of  the  enemy's 
sharpshooters,  to  establish  a  new  line  of  breastworks,  he  received 
a  wound  in  the  abdomen,  and  was  borne,  by  a  loved  comrade,  to 
the  field  hospital,  where,  on  the  evening  of  the  next  day,  he  died. 
"I  saw  him  several  times," — writes  the  chaplain  of  the  39th 
Mass.,  to  whom  he  was  before  a  stranger — "and  had  the  sad 
pleasure  of  administering  to  his  wants.  He  received  intelligence 
of  the  probable  fatal  result  of  his  wound  with  great  calmness. 
He  did  not  seem  to  suffer  much,  and  retained  his  senses  clearly. 
When  asked  if  he  had  any  messages  for  his  friends,  he  said,  'Send 
them  my  love,  and  say  good-bye  to  them.'  He  placed  his  Testa 
ment  in  my  hands,  saying  that  they  might  prize  it  as  a  keep 
sake.  He  was  buried  this  morning,  in  a  piece  of  woods,  on  the 
road  to  Cold  Harbor."  "He  sustained  an  excellent  character, 
used  no  intoxicating  beverages,  no  profane  language.  From  his 
conversation  I  judged  him  to  be  a  Christian  and  prepared  for 
death."  "The  fairest  and  best  are  taken  [concludes  the  writer, 
whose  letter  does  credit  to  his  own  heart,  as  well  as  to  the  sub 
ject  of  it]  the  fairest  and  best  are  taken — the  sacrifice  is  great — 
but  the  reward  is  sure."  To  this  testimony  from  one  to  whom 
he  was  a  stranger,  I  will  add  that  of  a  young  fellow-soldier  and 
friend,  who  during  this  campaign  had  fought  and  slept  by  his 
side,  though  not  able  to  be  with  him  at  the  last:  "I  have  always 
respected  him,"  he  writes,  "for  his  Christian  attributes,  but 
more  lately,  by  association  with  him,  discovered  he  had  true 
bravery.  From  the  commencement  of  this  campaign  he  has 


NOTES  313 

always  been  in  his  place.  His  physical  strength  and  my  own  I 
judge  to  have  been  nearly  the  same,  and  thus  I  am  enabled  to 
appreciate  his  self-denials.  We  had  a  week  of  tedious  marches, 
by  day  and  night;  had  much  fatigue  duty,  often  after  marching 
by  day  throwing  up  breastworks  at  night;  had  rain  upon  rain, 
in  which  he  was  wet  to  the  skin,  and  lay  down  with  nothing  under 
or  over  him;  was  under  fire  more  or  less  every  day, — and  yet 
he  showed  nothing  of  ill  humor;  I  did  not  hear  from  him  one 
word  of  complaint;  he  asked  for  nothing  but  'good  news,'  and 
when  that  came  was  happy."  The  writer  speaks  especially 
of  one  time,  when  bullets  and  shells  were  coming  thick  and 
fast  around  him,  how  he  preserved  a  perfect  calmness;  and  at 
intervals,  when  unoccupied  with  the  work  for  which  he  was 
especially  detailed  and  waiting  orders  to  resume  it,  how,  instead 
of  resting  himself,  he  found  employment  in  assisting,  with 
thoughtful  kindness,  the  wounded  soldiers,  coming  at  the  time 
in  crowds  from  the  front,  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  distant.  In 
another  letter,  to  his  own  family,  this  young  comrade  writes, 
— "Humphreys  never  shirked  a  duty." 

Testimony  like  this,  from  friend  and  stranger,  is  of  priceless 
worth;  though  we  looked  for  no  other.  We  who  knew  him  at 
home,  and  knew  the  spirit  in  which  he  went  from  us,  could  not 
have  believed  otherwise  than  that  he  would  stand  firm  and 
faithful  in  the  time  of  trial  and  danger,  and  do  well  the  part 
assigned  him,  wherever  and  whatever  it  might  be.  And  yet, 
it  was  a  mighty  trial,  it  was  an  appalling  danger;  and  no  wonder 
if,  momentarily,  he  had  quailed  before  it.  He  did  not  quail, 
the  testimony  is,  even  momentarily,  but  bore  himself,  at  once 
and  through  all,  with  a  calmness  and  courage  which  must  have 
drawn  its  inspiration  from  a  higher  than  mortal  source.  We 
are  accustomed  to  hear  of  the  practical  worth  of  religious  prin 
ciple  in  other  spheres  and  connections;  these  times  have  led  us 
to  know  its  value  on  the  battle-field;  how  it  endues  a  man  with 
an  unfearing  and  persistent  and  unconquerable  bravery,  as  far 
superior  in  effect  as  it  is  in  source  to  the  reckless  dash  and  fevered 
impulsions  of  the  mere  fighter  for  vengeance  or  a  name.  Walter 
Humphreys  was  a  hero.  It  needed  not  that  he  should  become  a 
soldier  to  assure  us  of  it.  For  common  and  daily  life  has  its 


3 14  NOTES 

calls  for  heroism;  and  they  are  answered  there.  They  were  so 
by  him, — in  his  stern  fidelity  to  a  sense  of  duty  and  of  right. 
Nor  was  he  less  a  hero  because  his  place  was  in  the  ranks;  be 
cause  his  name,  as  inscribed  above  his  sleeping  dust,  has  no 
prefix  save  that  of  "Private."  Praise  to  those  who  lead  on  to 
victory;  praise  no  less  to  those  who  follow,  and  achieve  it! 

Another  is  added  to  our  youthful  dead.  We  had  hoped  to 
welcome  him  home,  when  the  cause  which  demanded  him  should 
have  won  its  final  triumph — his  patriotic  self-devotion  would 
hardly  have  permitted  it  before.  It  cannot  be.  Vainly  among 
those  who  may  then  return  to  us,  shall  we  search  for  him.  His 
voice  shall  have  no  part  in  the  ascending  psalm  of  a  people's 
thanksgiving  over  a  redeemed  and  peace-encircled  land.  It  is 
well.  He  has  done  what  he  could  to  help  forward  that  glorious 
consummation.  He  has  died  nobly,  for  noblest  ends.  He  has 
left  a  fair  and  stainless  record.  He  has  bequeathed  a  memory 
which  it  will  do  us  good  to  cherish. 

In  the  words,  just  received  from  his  distant  post,  of  a  brother, 
who,  in  a  kindred  spirit,  is  serving  the  same  blessed  cause, — "He 
loved  great  principles,  labored  for  them,  fought  for  them,  died 
for  them.  Into  his  short  life  was  compressed  more  of  real  life- 
experience  than  commonly  enters  into  the  longest  lives.  His 
struggles  to  find  out  the  path  of  duty,  his  courage  in  following 
it  as  soon  as  discovered — these  developed  in  him  a  very  strong 
character."  "He  left  us  when  his  soul  was  firm  in  its  aspira 
tions  after  good,  when  he  rejoiced  in  the  freshness  of  its  strength." 
"You  cannot  know  how  thankful  I  am  that  Walter  was  not 
found  wanting  in  the  terrible  trial  of  his  faith  and  courage.  I 
was  confident  it  would  be  so,  when  he  enlisted.  Let  us  who  are 
left  emulate  his  goodness  and  faithfulness." 

Touching  tribute,  from  an  elder  to  a  younger  brother!  Beauti 
ful  "farewell,"  to  be  breathed  from  the  home  of  earth — to  be 
borne  to  the  Home  of  Heaven!  Blessed  the  homes  that  have 
such  to  give  to  country  and  to  God!  Blessed  the  country  that 
has  such  enrolled  among  the  hosts  of  her  defenders! 

Note  10,  page  in. — The  address  delivered  by  Rev.  Charles  A. 
Humphreys,  Chaplain  of  the  Second  Massachusetts  Cavalry,  at 


I 


CAPT.  THOMAS   B.  FOX 


NOTES  315 

the  funeral  of  Capt.  Thos.  B.  Fox,  Jr.,  in  Dorchester,  July  28, 
1863,  was  as  follows: — 

Another  hero  has  fallen.  Another  lover  of  his  country  has 
sealed  his  devotion  with  his  life.  Let  us  not  weep.  The  sacri 
fice  was  willing.  The  object  was  worthy.  "  The  Country"  has 
a  more  sacred  meaning  now  to  many  hearts.  The  life  that  was, 
still  is;  but  broader,  purer,  nobler.  Let  us  not  weep  for  our 
own  loss.  He  has  only  exchanged  this  transient  life  in  mortal 
flesh,  for  an  eternal  life  in  immortal  memories  and  undying  affec 
tions.  His  shrine  is  now  in  our  own  hearts.  His  fitting  monu 
ment  is  his  remembered  life.  Let  us  not  weep  for  him.  He  fought 
for  his  country.  Who  could  leave  a  brighter  record?  He  died 
for  his  country.  Who  could  wish  a  better  epitaph? 

The  record  of  his  life  is  simple,  but  it  is  the  simplicity  of  purity 
and  nobleness.  He  needs  no  written  memorial,  for  his  life  wrote 
itself.  It  was  known  and  read  by  all  who  met  him.  A  more 
open  nature  I  have  not  known.  A  casual  acquaintance  did  not, 
however,  see  his  best  qualities.  He  was  so  frank  that  he  would 
not  conceal  his  worst  side,  and  so  strong  in  his  conscious  integrity 
that  he  cared  not  to  put  forward  his  best  side.  His  generosity 
of  spirit,  his  purity  of  soul,  his  devotedness  of  purpose  and  his 
exalted  aims;  these  were  not  known  to  all. 

His  school  life  is  known  to  most  of  you  his  townsmen.  He  was 
always  upon  the  stage  in  public-school  exercises;  and  you  well 
remember  his  flashing  eye  and  rich  full  voice  as  he  caught  the 
spirit  of  his  theme,  or  declaimed  some  thrilling  passage  from  the 
orators  that  he  loved.  His  college  career  was  brilliant  and  honor 
able.  As  a  scholar  he  took  very  high  rank,  one  year  standing 
second  in  a  class  of  a  hundred.  As  a  "society  man"  he  had  few 
if  any  equals.  As  a  debater  he  was  masterly,  showing  a  peculiar 
fitness  for  the  profession  of  his  choice.  As  a  speaker  he  was 
convincing  and  impressive.  He  received  the  highest  honor  in 
the  gift  of  his  class;  being  chosen  their  orator.  His  classmates 
of  1860  will  miss  a  genial  companion  and  warm  friend,  and  will 
mourn  the  loss  of  him  who  has  been  one  of  their  brightest  honors. 
Yet  they  cannot  but  rejoice  in  the  honor  of  his  death  as  of  his 
life.  Captain  Fox  is  the  seventh  martyr  that  they  have  already 
given  to  their  country.  Four  have  fallen  from  one  regiment—- 


316  NOTES 

the  noble  Second  Massachusetts  Infantry — whose  record  will  be 
none  the  less  brilliant,  that  its  officers  have  in  so  large  a  measure 
been  taken  from  those  who  had  been  trained  only  in  professional 
pursuits.  Harvard  shall  have  no  brighter  honor  than  the  de 
votion  of  her  sons  to  their  country's  cause,  and  shall  rear  no  nobler 
monument  than  to  those  who  fell  in  her  service. 

But,  friends,  we  do  not  come  to-day  to  mourn  for  private 
griefs  or  to  speak  of  private  honors.  The  honor  and  the  grief 
are  for  us  all.  Even  those  who  looked  on  our  friend  as  son  and 
brother  do  not  to-day  mourn  their  private  loss.  They  gave  him 
to  his  country  in  the  bright  promise  of  his  early  manhood.  He 
fought  bravely  in  her  service.  And  now  that  he  lies  cold  and 
dead,  they  would  have  the  last  sad  rites  devoted  to  the  same 
blessed  cause.  And  how  fitting!  for  he,  too,  would  have  it  so. 
On  earth  as  we  walked  together,  ofttimes  he  would  unlock  to 
me  his  deepest  soul.  But  those  lips  never  spoke  more  persua 
sively  than  now,  and  I  seem  to  see  deeper  into  his  spirit  than 
when  I  grasped  his  warm  hand  and  gazed  into  his  friendly  eyes. 
Let  me  give  voice  to  his  spirit,  as  it  speaks  to  me  to-day  of  the 
duty  of  loyalty  and  the  beauty  of  sacrifice.  Ah!  how  thrilling 
the  call  to  patriotic  devotion  that  comes  from  the  poor  dumb 
mouths  of  our  country's  martyrs!  With  what  a  terrible  force 
the  lesson  comes  to  us  from  lonely  firesides  and  deserted  homes! 
The  voice  of  our  brothers'  blood  cries  to  us  from  the  ground  to 
learn  this  lesson  quickly,  and  to  learn  it  well.  As  a  people  we 
have  not  felt,  and  do  not  feel,  enough  respect  and  reverence  for 
established  authority,  and  the  American  pulpit  has  been  remiss 
in  failing  to  urge  this  respect  and  reverence  on  the  ground  of 
moral  duty  and  religious  principle.  But  our  soldiers,  by  their 
words  as  well  as  by  their  acts,  are  teaching  us  more  effectively 
the  duty  of  loyalty. 

I  have  been  with  those  who  left  home  and  friends,  the  culti 
vation  of  literature  and  the  pursuits  of  peace,  to  follow  in  the 
path  of  grim-visaged  War;  who  left  us  with  our  blessings  on  their 
heads;  but  who  through  the  long  months  of  weary  toil  and  im 
pending  peril  have  been  turning  their  faces  homeward  for  sym 
pathy  and  encouragement  only  to  see  the  flush  of  patriotism 
paling  in  our  cheeks  and  to  hear  our  words  of  complaint  and  faint- 


NOTES  317 

heartedness;  I  have  been  with  those  who  have  learned  in  the  face 
of  death  to  see  things  as  they  are;  who  dealing  with  stern  realities 
have  caught  the  power  to  distinguish  sharply  the  true  from  the 
false,  and  have  learned  to  value  that  which  is  founded  in  the 
eternal  realities;  who  in  the  illumination  of  pure  and  noble  desires 
to  serve  their  country  have  seen  with  clearest  vision  what  that 
country  needs;  and  these  have  told  me  that  the  great  want  of 
this  country  is  loyalty,  loyalty  founded  on  a  religious  conviction 
of  duty.  The  voice  of  our  country  should  be  to  us  as  the  voice 
of  God;  and  it  is  to  all  true  souls. 

Some  feared  that  after  the  first  thrill  of  patriotic  devotion, 
when  pain  and  sacrifice  should  be  seen  to  be  inseparably  con 
nected  with  devotion  to  principle,  patriotism  would  then  die 
out.  Of  course  there  are  craven  spirits  everywhere  and  at  all 
times;  but  the  cold  form  before  us  starts  into  life  to  hurl  back 
the  insinuation  that  patriotism  can  die  out  in  noble  hearts.  He 
left  for  the  war  in  the  midst  of  disaster  to  our  cause,  after  the 
battle  of  Cedar  Mountain,  in  which  his  own  regiment  lost  many 
officers.  The  last  thing  he  did  before  leaving  was  to  attend 
the  funeral  of  Captain  Abbott  of  the  Second,  his  college  class 
mate  and  friend.  But  he  was  cheerful,  and  only  gathered  fresh 
courage  from  the  costly  sacrifice.  Let  us  to-day  catch  some  of 
his  spirit.  Let  us  renew  our  vows  of  devotion  to  our  country's 
cause,  and  if  the  name  of  Fatherland  cannot  move  us  to  patriotic 
feeling,  let  the  silent  eloquence  of  this  wasted  life  stir  us  to  our 
duty. 

Wasted  life  did  I  say?  No!  His  spirit  speaks  to  me  again 
of  the  eternal  beauty  of  sacrifice.  Nothing  worthy  is  gained  but 
through  sacrifice.  The  world  was  saved  by  sacrifice;  and  our 
country,  baptized  in  the  blood  of  her  noblest  sons,  shall  work  out 
for  herself  a  new  salvation  and  take  the  path  to  a  higher  destiny. 
I  hear  him  say, — 

"O  do  not  falter,  peace  must  come  by  pain, 

Heaven  is  not  found,  but  won; 
Hold  the  dark  angel  till  he  moulds  again 
The  peace  he  hath  undone." 

No,  brother,  we  will  not  falter;  while  the  memory  of  thy  life 
holds  a  place  in  our  breasts,  we  will  be  true  to  our  country; 


318  NOTES 

and  inspired  by  thy  noble  sacrifice,  we  too  shall  dare  to  die  in  her 
defence.     But  do  thou,  brother, — 

"Go  to  thy  home,  at  noon,  from  labor  cease; 

Rest  on  thy  sheaves,  thy  harvest  work  is  done; 
Come  from  the  heat  of  battle,  and  in  peace, 
Soldier,  go  home;  with  thee  the  field  is  won." 

Notf  ii,  page  14.6. — Lieutenant  Amory,  paroled  in  Charleston, 
September  23,  1864,  so  far  recovered  his  strength  as  to  return  to 
his  regiment  at  Winchester  December  27,  1864,  and  remained  till 
the  end  of  the  war,  and  passed  before  Lincoln  and  Grant  in  the 
Grand  Review  in  Washington,  and  reached  his  home  July  12, 
1865,  supremely  thankful  that,  spite  of  his  sufferings  and  dis 
abilities,  he  could  see  the  war  through  to  its  end,  and  feel  that 
he  had  some  share  in  its  glorious  consummation.  But  the  price 
he  had  to  pay  was  a  lifelong  martyrdom  of  ill  health.  Yet  like  a 
true  soldier  he  never  complained,  and  did  what  he  could,  managing 
large  business  interests,  and  from  his  ample  resources  helping 
quietly  all  good  causes.  He  passed  away  November  5,  1913, 
leaving  behind  him  a  blessed  memory  and  an  honored  name. 

Note  12,  page  190. — In  regard  to  undertaking  this  labor,  the 
sculptor,  Daniel  Chester  French,  wrote  me,  October  9,  1884,  "I 
am  very  anxious  to  do  my  best  in  this  very  important  work  and 
on  so  inspiring  a  subject  as  General  Lowell  and  want  to  do  it 
when  I  have  plenty  of  time  and  under  the  best  conditions." 
When  the  bust  was  finished  and  placed  in  Memorial  Hall  he  wrote 
me,  March  8,  1886,  "I  am  happily  disappointed  in  the  effect  of 
the  bust,  since  it  is  in  position.  It  looks  better  than  I  expected, 
and  is  one  of  the  few  things  of  mine  upon  which  I  can  look  without 
more  regret  than  pleasure."  I  myself  was  not  greatly  surprised 
at  this  confession  of  the  sculptor's  frequent  disappointments,  for 
I  knew  that  his  ideals  were  always  far  ahead  of  the  possibility  of 
their  full  expression  in  the  cold  marble.  Nor  was  I  greatly  sur 
prised  at  his  marvellous  success  when  I  considered  his  conscien 
tious  and  patient  fidelity,  of  which  I  had  seen  many  evidences. 
One  of  these  he  revealed  in  a  letter  to  me,  November  6,  1884, 
in  which  he  said,  "In  modelling  the  bust  everything  in  the  shape 
of  a  photograph  will  be  valuable,  even  those  taken  in  childhood 


LIEUT.  C.  W.  AMORY; 


Q  k  I  V  . 

(;  L  ((-  0  U  U  t  i. 


GEN.  CHARLES   R.  LOWELL 


y/m,  'J? 
3  AH?  <J  Hill, I 


NOTES  319 

sometimes  furnishing  a  proof  of  some  doubtful  form."  But  the 
best  proof  that  I  found  of  the  sculptor's  success  was  the  satis 
faction  of  Mrs.  Charles  Russell  Lowell.  It  had  been  quite  diffi 
cult  for  me  to  get  her  permission  to  have  the  work  done.  Of 
course  she  saw  in  her  husband  a  thousand  things  that  no  marble 
could  express.  But  she  wrote  me  February  23,  1885,  "It  is  won 
derful  that  Mr.  French  should  have  been  able  to  get  so  much 
character  into  the  bust,  and  I  am  perfectly  satisfied  to  have  it  re 
main  as  a  likeness  of  Colonel  Lowell." 

FRAMINGHAM,  MARCH  10,  1886. 
To  THE  PRESIDENT  AND  FELLOWS  OF  HARVARD  COLLEGE: 

Gentlemen, — In  behalf  of  his  fellow-officers  of  the  Second 
Massachusetts  Cavalry  Volunteers  and  other  friends  of  the  late 
Gen.  Charles  Russell  Lowell  I  have  the  honor  to  present  to  you 
his  portrait-bust,  sculptured  by  Daniel  C.  French  of  Concord 
in  Italian  marble  and  now  set  up  in  Memorial  Hall  in  the  niche 
kindly  assigned  by  you  October  20,  1884. 

Yours  respectfully, 

CHARLES  A.  HUMPHREYS. 

The  "other  friends"  spoken  of  in  this  formal  presentation  were 
John  M.  Forbes,  William  Amory,  J.  Huntington  Wolcott, 
Charles  E.  Perkins,  and  Edward  W.  Emerson. 

A  pleasant  incident  in  connection  with  the  photographs  of  the 
bust  of  Lowell  was  this:  I  sent  one  to  Col.  Robert  H.  Renshaw, 
a  classmate  of  Lowell,  H.  C.  1854,  and  I  directed  it  to  him  at  the 
island  of  Teneriffe,  where  in  1879  I  had  last  seen  him.  I  was 
voyaging  through  those  summer  isles — Fayal,  Madeira,  and 
Teneriffe — in  search  of  health,  and  on  the  latter  island  in  the 
valley  of  Orotava  I  found  Renshaw  and  he  invited  me  to  come  to 
his  house  and,  as  he  said,  "take  pot  luck"  with  him.  His 
".pot  luck"  was  dispensed  in  a  banquet  of  ten  most  elegant 
courses,  and  his  hospitality  was  unbounded.  And  yet  the 
last  time  we  were  near  each  other  he  was  living  on  one  onion — 
as  I  have  told  on  page  277 — because  Sheridan,  with  whom  I  then 
was,  had  stolen  his  Uncle  Robert'*  supply-trains.  Renshaw 


320  NOTES 

married  a  niece  of  Gen.  Robert  E.  Lee  and  was  Quartermaster  on 
his  staff,  and  when  the  war  was  over  his  mortification  led  him  to 
abandon  his  native  land  and  take  refuge  in  Teneriffe.  His  de 
light  now  in  recalling  the  old  college  days  before  the  war  was  most 
manifest,  and  I  could  tell  him  of  the  buried  animosities  and  the 
more  strongly  cemented  Union.  At  any  rate  we  had  a  great 
time  clasping  hands  over  the  bloody  chasm,  and  when  I  had 
photographs  taken  of  the  Lowell  bust,  I  decided  to  send  one  to 
Colonel  Renshaw  at  Teneriffe.  What  was  my  surprise  and 
gratification  when  I  received  from  him  the  following  letter! 

RICHMOND,  VIRGINIA, 

27th  April,  1885. 

Dear  Mr.  Humphreys, — I  cannot  tell  you  how  much  gratified  I 
was  last  night  to  receive  your  kind  letter  of  4th  March  enclosing 
a  photograph  of  the  Bust  of  my  old  friend  Chas.  R.  Lowell,  for 
which  I  beg  you  to  accept  my  most  cordial  thanks.  Your  letter 
was  forwarded  to  me  from  Teneriffe.  I  left  the  Islands  in  1882 
and  have  since  been  residing  in  Virginia  where  I  hope  one  of  these 
days  to  have  the  pleasure  of  meeting  you  and  showing  that  2^ 
year  old  Charlie  of  whom  you  so  kindly  speak.  Reciprocating 
your  kind  wishes  and  with  most  cordial  regards, 
Believe  me, 

Very  Sincerely  Yours, 

Robert  H.  Renshaw. 

Note  13,  pages  245-6. — This  photograph  of  Lieut.  Huntington 
Frothingham  Wolcott  is  copied  from  a  portrait  of  him  by  Wil 
liam  M.  Hunt.  His  younger  brother  was  our  honored  Governor 
Roger  Wolcott,  who  thus  speaks  of  the  soldier  boy: — 

COMMONWEALTH  OF  MASSACHUSETTS, 
EXECUTIVE  DEPARTMENT, 

BOSTON,  Jan.  I2th,  1898. 
REV.  CHARLES  A.  HUMPHREYS, 

RANDOLPH,  MASS. 

My  dear  Mr.  Humphreys, — I  returned  to  you  yesterday  the 
paper  on  the  battles  of  Dinwiddie  Court  House  and  Five  Forks, 


LIEUT.   HUNTINGTON   FROTHINGHAM   WOLCOTT 


U  k  i  V  .  0  l- 
C  L  L  ( {'  C  TV  U  I 


NOTES  321 

which  you  were  kind  enough  to  send  to  me.  I  read  it  aloud 
on  Sunday  evening  to  my  Mother  and  our  children,  and  we  all 
found  it  deeply  interesting.  It  is  a  most  graphic  account  of 
those  days  so  full  of  destiny  to  the  country.  They  were  the 
times  that  made  men  heroes  at  an  age  when  we  should  now  con 
sider  them  hardly  more  than  boys. 

Please  accept  my  thanks,  and  believe  me 

Very  truly  yours, 

ROGER  WOLCOTT. 

Lines  in  memory  of  Lieut.  Huntington  F.  Wolcott  by  Chap 
lain  Charles  A.  Humphreys: — 

NOT  ALL  IS  LOST 

The  look  of  love,  the  gentle  modest  ways 
That  charmed  you  through  his  happy  childhood's  days; 
Youth's  larger  hopes,  yet  self-contained  and  true, 
Eager  to  gird  himself  life's  work  to  do, 
These  are  not  lost. 

The  manly  spirit,  and  the  loyal  soul, 
The  daily  record  writ  on  honor's  scroll, 
The  honest  heart  on  faithfulness  intent, 
The  wholesome  life  in  ways  of  virtue  spent, 
These  are  not  lost. 

The  reverent  listening  to  his  country's  call, 
The  cheerful  giving  of  his  strength,  his  all, 
The  brave  farewell  to  native  home  and  state, 
The  fortitude  to  meet  a  soldier's  fate, 
These  are  not  lost. 

Not  one  is  lost.     In  memory's  vista  bright, 
Transfigured  all  shall  rise  to  clearer  light, 
And  things,  deep  hidden  in  the  day's  fierce  glow, 
The  night  of  death  shall  clear,  and  you  shall  know 
They  are  not  lost. 

[Dedicated  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  J.  Huntington  Wolcott.l 


Note  14,  page  284. — CASPAR    CROWNINSHIELD  was   born    in 
Boston,  October  23,  1837,  received  his  early  education  in  Boston 


322  NOTES 

schools,  and  finished  his  preparation  for  college  under  Rev. 
William  C.  Tenney  of  Northfield,  where  tales  of  his  magnificent 
physique  and  athletic  prowess  were  often  repeated  with  admira 
tion. 

Entering  the  class  of  1860  at  Harvard,  he  became  at  once  its 
athletic  champion,  and  on  "Bloody  Monday,"  September  I, 
1856,  led  us  Freshmen  to  victory  over  the  Sophomores,  he  himself 
forming  the  head  of  a  living  wedge  that  clove  our  confident 
opponents  asunder,  and  made  a  way  for  the  ball  to  be  pushed  to 
its  goal.  This  was  only  the  third  Freshman  victory  in  the  whole 
history  of  the  college.  When  I  say  that  in  this  encounter  Caspar 
Crowninshield  was  easily  the  first,  it  should  be  noted  that  of  the 
seventy  who  lined  up  behind  him,  sixty-one  had  the  pluck, 
five  years  later,  to  fight  for  their  country,  fifty-one  of  them  as 
commissioned  officers,  and  on  the  more  bloody  fields  of  war 
twelve  of  them  laid  down  their  lives,  and  among  them  was  the 
hero  of  Fort  Wagner. 

Through  our  college  life,  Caspar  Crowninshield  was  stroke  oar 
in  a  crew  that  never  knew  defeat,  and  on  Class  Day  he  was  our 
Chief  Marshal.  He  had  been  chosen  without  a  question,  and 
bore  the  honor  without  a  peer. 

After  graduation  he  gave  himself  to  business,  till  the  war  broke 
out,  when  he  at  once  put  himself  into  training  for  military  service, 
and  accepted  a  commission  as  captain  in  the  Twentieth  Massa 
chusetts  Infantry.  Going  to  the  front  in  September,  the  very 
next  month  finds  him  heroically  leading  a  forlorn  hope,  after 
the  defeat  at  Ball's  Bluff,  where,  after  sending  by  boat  across 
the  river  his  men  who  could  not  swim,  he  strips  off  his  outer 
clothing,  takes  his  watch  in  his  mouth  and  his  blanket  on  his 
shoulders,  and  swims  across  amid  a  shower  of  death-dealing 
bullets.  C.  B.  Brown  of  the  Nineteenth  Massachusetts  Infantry 
writes:  "About  four  o'clock  in  the  morning,  Caspar  Crownin 
shield  turned  up,  in  shirt  and  drawers,  with  a  blanket  over  his 
shoulders,  after  a  cold  swim  across  the  river.  All  unite  in  praising 
his  gallant  conduct  on  the  field  of  battle." 

In  another  month  he  followed  his  special  aptitude  and  his 
personal  inclination,  and  joined  the  cavalry,  accepting  a  captaincy 
in  the  First  Massachusetts,  and  doing  distinguished  service  with 


LIEUT.  COL.  CASPAR   CROWNINSHIELD 


iv  i  v  ..  v;  i- 


C  u  L  t  lr  0  tt.  U 


NOTES  323 

it  in  South  Carolina  and  Virginia,  till  January  30,  1863,  when 
Col.  Charles  Russell  Lowell  drew  him  into  the  Second  Massa 
chusetts  Cavalry,  with  the  offer  of  the  senior  majority,  and  all 
his  subsequent  military  career  was  with  this  regiment,  of  which 
he  took  command  as  soon  as  it  reached  the  field,  since  Colonel 
Lowell  was  at  once  put  in  command  of  a  brigade,  and  Lieut.  Col. 
H.  S.  Russell  was  on  other  duty. 

In  a  career  that  was  always  brave  and  resourceful,  it  is  difficult 
to  pick  out  special  achievements.  I  have  spoken  of  Ball's  Bluff; 
I  will  alude  to  only  two  others. 

When  General  Early,  in  his  advance  upon  Washington,  in  July, 
1864,  reached  its  outer  defences,  and,  to  his  surprise,  found  them 
well  guarded,  he  sought  at  once  to  save  himself  by  retreat.  As 
it  happened,  the  Second  Massachusetts  Cavalry  was  then  the 
only  regiment  available  for  pursuit,  and  it  started  immediately 
to  harass  the  enemy.  Our  advance  battalion,  led  by  Colonel 
Crowninshield,  came  upon  Early's  extreme  rear  guard — composed 
of  Jackson's  cavalry  brigade — just  beyond  Rockville,  and  charged 
upon  them  gallantly.  Gen.  B.  T.  Johnson  writes:  "The 
Second  Massachusetts  Cavalry  hung  upon  our  rear  and  made  it 
very  uncomfortable  for  us  generally."  The  flying  Confederates 
were  annoyed  into  many  a  counter  charge,  all  of  which  were 
stoutly  repelled. 

The  other  occasion  I  would  specify  was  his  successful  charge  at 
Cedar  Creek,  after  his  commander,  Lowell,  had  been  mortally 
wounded  in  two  unsuccessful  charges.  Crowninshield  said: 
"I  never  expected  to  succeed  or  to  get  out  alive.  The  enemy's 
fire  was  terrific.  Compared  with  it,  Ball's  Bluff  was  child's 
play.  But  I  saw  the  infantry  charging  on  the  right,  and  I  charged 
and  said,  'God,  just  take  my  soul!'" 

General  Crowninshield  was  never  wounded,  though  often 
under  fire.  Twice  he  saved  himself  by  swimming,  once  at  Ball's 
Bluff  and  once  at  the  North  Anna  River.  On  this  latter  occasion 
he  showed  his  quickness  to  meet  an  emergency.  Following 
Sheridan  in  his  raid  round  Richmond,  in  March,  1865,  we  came  to 
the  river  after  dark,  being  ourselves  near  the  end  of  a  column  that 
was  ten  miles  long.  All  before  had  passed  over  in  safety.  But 
in  the  darkness  we  missed  the  ford,  as  we  were  only  guided  by 


324  NOTES 

the  horses  in  front  of  us,  and  they  had  gradually  been  pushed  down 
stream  by  the  force  of  the  current,  and  when  we  came  to  cross  we 
struck  deep  water  and  our  horses  had  to  swim.  In  the  confusion 
many  a  horse  and  rider  went  down  to  his  death.  I  was  pushed 
from  my  horse  and  trodden  down  to  the  bottom  of  the  river. 
Managing  to  wriggle  away  from  the  struggling  mass,  I  shouted, 
as  soon  as  I  rose  to  the  surface,  "Where  is  Colonel  Crownin- 
shield?"  thinking  he  had,  perhaps,  met  a  worse  fate  than  myself. 
But  there  was  no  reply.  I  soon,  however,  discovered  that,  in 
order  to  save  the  others  from  a  watery  grave,  he  swam  to  the 
shore  and  found  the  ford,  and  set  lights  to  guide  the  rest  of  the 
column.  Strange  that  no  one  else  had  thought  of  that  necessity 
for  their  safety.  If  my  Colonel  was  never  wounded,  I  know  he 
was  spattered  with  mud  by  a.  shell  that,  fortunately,  refused  to 
burst,  for  I  was  standing  with  him,  on  the  morning  of  Lee's 
surrender,  when  the  last  shell  that  was  ever  fired  from  a  Rebel 
battery  fell  harmless  at  our  feet. 

I  do  not  trust  myself  to  speak  of  the  proud  admiration  and 
affectionate  regard  I  felt  for  my  classmate  and  my  Colonel.  He 
was  one  of  the  most  lovable  of  men,  simple  as  a  child,  but  brave 
as  a  hero.  Sheridan  said  of  him:  "He  is  very  near  to  me  in 
feeling  and  sympathy.  I  like  him  very  much.  He  has  a  noble 
nature  and  a  true  patriotism." 

He  was  "one  of  those  whose  faith  and  truth  on  war's  red 
touchstone  rang  true  metal."  One  of  those  loyal  souls  who  felt 

"  'Tis  man's  perdition  to  be  safe 
When  for  the  truth  he  ought  to  die." 

Faithful  soldier,  we  bid  you  welcome  to  your  well-earned 
rest. 

Brevet  Brig.  Gen.  Caspar  Crowninshield  died  in  Boston, 
January  10,  1897. 

Note  75,  page  284. — William  Hathaway  Forbes  was  born  in 
Milton,  Mass.,  November  i,  1840;  Second  Lieutenant,  First 
Massachusetts  Cavalry,  December  26,  1861;  First  Lieutenant, 
July  27,  1862;  Captain,  Second  Massachusetts  Cavalry,  January 
14,  1863;  Major,  May  12,  1863;  taken  prisoner  at  Aldie,  Va., 


NOTES  325 

July  6,   1864;  Lieutenant  Colonel,  October  21,  1864;    mustered 
out,  May  15,  1865;  died  October  n,  1897. 

This  is  the  skeleton-record  which  I  would  like  to  clothe  in 
flesh  and  blood,  and  make  to  live  again.  But  how  can  I  picture 
that  manly  form  with  its  distinguished  bearing,  that  fair  face 
with  its  lofty  look,  that  elastic  step  quick  on  errands  of  service, 
that  winning  presence  that  drew  all  hearts?  And  when  I  would 
look  within  at  the  pure  spirit  and  the  generous  soul,  I  am  pre 
vented  by  the  thought  of  his  modesty  from  saying  all  I  would 
like  of  his  worth,  and  he  was  so  close  to  me  through  the  most 
trying  scenes  that  I  dare  not  trust  myself  to  speak  my  love  for 
him.  I  can  only  utter  a  few  simple  words  of  happy  remembrance 
of  his  youth's  patriotic  devotion. 

He  was  an  unspoiled  favorite  of  fortune;  and,  outwardly,  had 
everything  to  lose  by  going  to  the  war.  But  his  spirit  of  knightly 
chivalry  had  not  been  smothered  under  the  love  of  pleasure  and 
power  that  wealth  frequently  fosters.  He  saw,  beyond  the 
fields  where  men  delve  for  greed  and  gold,  the  heights  of  heroism 
where  men  die  for  country  and  honor,  and  "what  he  dared  to 
dream  of,  he  dared  to  do." 

"When  I  remember  with  what  buoyant  heart, 
Midst  war's  alarms  and  woes  of  civil  strife, 
In  youthful  eagerness  thou  didst  depart 
At  peril  of  thy  safety,  peace,  and  life, 
Ne'er  from  thyself  by  Fortune  fair  beguiled, 
I  name  thee  to  the  world — Stern  Duty's  Faithful  Child." 

He  was  one  of  these  heroic  men  who,  in  the  trial  of  battle,  was 
ready  to  lay  bare  against  the  hostile  bayonet  his  own  fearless 
breast.  At  Aldie,  when  his  command  was  scattered  and  the 
day  was  lost,  he  would  not  yield  the  field,  but  charged  alone 
against  the  on-rushing  line  of  the  enemy,  pierced  with  his  sabre 
one  at  least  of  the  Rebel  officers,  and  would  not  surrender  till  he 
was  pinned  to  the  ground  under  his  own  fallen  horse. 

"  To  front  a  lie  in  arms,  and  not  to  yield, 
This  shows,  methinks,  God's  plan 
And  measure  of  a  stalwart  man, 
Limbed  like  the  old  heroic  breeds, 
Fed  from  within  with  all  the  strength  he  needs." 


326  NOTES 

He  was,  indeed,  "fed  from  within." 

"His  strength  was  as  the  strength  of  ten 
Because  his  heart  was  pure." 

"All  the  ends  he  aimed  at,  were  his  country's,  his  God's,  and 
truth's." 

"He  followed  Truth,  and  found  her 
With  danger's  sweetness  round  her. 
And  he,  our  brother,  fought  for  her, 
At  life's  dear  peril  wrought  for  her, 
So  loved  her  he  would  die  for  her." 

How  near  he  often  came  to  death  on  the  field  by  the  chance  of 
the  unseen  bullet,  no  one  can  say;  but  I  know  of  the  fierce  intent 
of  the  barely  escaped  sabre-thrust,  and  of  the  almost  unendurable 
tortures  of  hope-deferred  amid  the  exposures  and  starvation  of 
southern  prisons.  Twice  he  was  taken  out  and  told  that  he  would 
be  exchanged,  and  twice  he  was  brought  back  to  what  seemed  a 
living  death.  Yet  he  kept  up  good  courage,  even  after  both  his 
messmates  were  released  before  him,  and  patiently  endured 
unto  the  end,  sustained  by  invisible  trusts.  Seldom  did  he  close 
his  eyes  to  try  to  sleep  on  the  floor  of  the  work-house  or  the  earth 
of  the  prison-pen,  without  leading  us  in  singing  that  sweet  song, 
from  Der  Freischutz,  whose  adapted  words  are  not  only  a  hymn 
of  trust,  but  also  a  prayer  of  faith: — 

"When  o'er  the  western  hills  the  sunset  tints  blending 

Show  us  how  quickly  fades  all  that  on  earth  is  bright, 
Then  to  unfading  realms  our  prayer  is  ascending — 
God  of  the  fatherless,  guide  us,  guard  us  to-night." 

Of  him  Emerson's  words  seem  most  fitting: — 

"There  is  no  record  left  on  earth, 
Save  in  tablets  of  the  heart, 
Of  the  rich  inherent  worth, 
Of  the  grace  that  on  him  shone, 
Of  eloquent  lips,  of  joyful  wit; 
He  could  not  frame  a  word  unfit, 
An  act  unworthy  to  be  done. 
Honor  prompted  every  glance; 
Honor  came  and  sat  beside  him.' 


NOTES  327 

If  we  call  them  heroes  who  fell  on  the  field,  amid  all  the  sus 
taining  inspirations  of  glorious  war,  how  much  more  heroic  is  he, 
who,  having  passed  bravely  through  the  perils  of  the  fight,  bears 
uncomplainingly,  month  after  month,  the  unspeakable  horrors 
of  Confederate  prisons,  and  then,  year  after  year,  the  hardly- 
concealed  marks  of  their  blighting  touch.  Not  all  the  heroes 
died  in  battle.  A  finer  heroism  may  still  live  on  in  those  who, 
through  weary  decades,  have  borne  about  with  enfeebled 
strength  the  dread  entail  of  war's  exposures. 

Yes,  thou  true  and  noble  soul,  we  honor  equally  the  courage 
with  which  you  went  out  to  fight,  and  the  fortitude  with  which 
you  came  home  to  endure. 

"Hail!  and  farewell!  thine  earthly  work  doth  cease; 

Rest  on  thy  sheaves,  thy  harvest  toil  is  done; 
Come  from  life's  well-fought  battle,  and  in  peace, 
Soldier,  go  home,  for  thee  the  field  is  won." 

Our  lessening  ranks  bring  us  together  closer,  shoulder  to  shoul 
der,  and  make  more  precious  the  remembered  heroisms  of  a  life  like 
that  of  Forbes.  God  make  us  all  as  noble,  and  keep  us  all 
as  true. 

"O  beautiful!  my  Country! 
Among  the  nations  bright  beyond  compare, 
What  were  our  lives  without  thee? 
What  all  our  lives  to  save  thee? 
We  reck  not  what  we  gave  thee; 
We  will  not  dare  to  doubt  thee, 
But  ask  whatever  else,  and  we  will  dare." 

The  father  of  William  Hathaway  Forbes  was  John  Murray 
Forbes,  and  we  called  him  "The  Father  of  our  Regiment,"  be 
cause  he  did  so  much  for  us.  So  I  will  add  here  a  short  sketch 
of  his  patriotic  labors. 

John  Murray  Forbes  died  at  Milton  October  twelfth,  eighteen 
hundred  ninety-eight,  in  the  eighty-sixth  year  of  his  age. 

Of  this  long  life,  filled  as  it  was  with  honorable  labors,  I  may 
speak  of  those  only  that  concerned  the  country's  welfare  in  the 
Civil  War.  But  merely  to  name  them  would  fill  volumes.  I  can 
mention  only  a  few,  as  illustrations  of  numberless  patriotic  labors 
to  which  he  gave  his  strong  intellect  and  his  sympathetic  heart. 


328  NOTES 

Before  the  war  he  did  what  he  could  to  avert  the  strife,  and 
became  one  of  the  Peace  Commissioners,  seeking  to  bring  about 
a  reconciliation.  Failing  in  that,  he  gave  himself  with  utter 
devotion  to  the  suppression  of  rebellion.  He  planned  with 
General  Scott  for  the  saving  of  Fort  Sumter,  but  their  efforts 
came  to  naught  through  the  treachery  of  high  officials.  Not  dis 
couraged,  he  gave  himself  to  any  unpaid  and  unofficial  service 
that  promised  relief  to  the  country  in  its  dire  distress.  Was  the 
path  of  Abraham  Lincoln  to  the  White  House  beset  with  Rebel 
plots,  Forbes  is  foremost  in  making  futile  their  snares.  Was  the 
path  of  Governor  Andrew,  in  his  preparations  for  war,  beset  with 
innumerable  difficulties,  Forbes  removed  the  heaviest  of  them  by 
assuming  responsibility  in  untried  situations,  and  pledging  sup 
port  where  state  funds  were  lacking.  Did  the  war  find  us  with 
out  a  navy,  Forbes  planned  the  equipment  of  the  merchant 
marine  into  an  effective  arm  for  striking  strong  blows  at  rebellion. 
Did  English  sympathy  with  the  South  imperil  the  foreign  opera 
tions  of  the  national  treasury,  Forbes  must  be  sent  abroad  to 
check  Rebel  plans,  and  sustain  our  government's  credit.  Did  the 
heart  of  Massachusetts  agonize  at  the  slow  recognition  of  the 
manhood  of  the  negro  and  the  opportunity  for  his  soldierly 
succor,  Forbes  must  be  sent  to  Washington  to  put  more  conscience 
and  common  sense  into  military  plans.  Did  the  heart  of  the 
North  bleed  for  the  sufferings  of  her  soldiers  in  Rebel  prisons, 
Forbes  pours  streams  of  gold  into  the  hands  of  the  Commissioners 
of  Exchange  in  the  hope  that  some  of  it  would  filter  through  the 
hands  of  the  prison-keepers  to  their  starving  victims.  When  I 
was  released  at  Fort  Sumter,  in  1864,  I  found  unlimited  gold 
awaiting  me  to  be  used  to  relieve  my  messmates  left  behind. 
When  I  reached  my  home  nearly  exhausted  with  prison  ex 
posures  and  starvation,  that  paradise  of  Naushon  with  its  warmer 
than  English  hospitality  was  thrown  wide  open  to  me  to  recruit 
in,  and  the  generous  hearts  that  had  welcomed  there  the  artist 
Hunt  and  the  poet  Whittier,  Holmes  the  wit  and  Emerson  the 
philosopher,  thought  nothing  too  good  for  even  the  humblest 
soldier.  No  day  passed  in  that  island  home  without  some  work 
for  the  army.  The  waysides  were  stripped  of  the  floss  of  the 
milkweed  to  make  pads  and  pillows  to  ease  the  wounds  of  the 


NOTES  329 

soldiers  in  the  hospitals,  and  nimble  needles  plied  day  and  night 
to  knit  warm  coverings  for  the  exposed  pickets.  I  wonder  that 
there  was  a  horse  left  in  the  stalls;  for  Mr.  Forbes,  besides  sup 
plying  many  of  us  cavalrymen  with  an  outfit,  insisted  on  supplying 
our  losses  in  the  field,  and  our  Colonel  had  thirteen  horses  shot 
under  him  in  a  campaign  of  two  months. 

I  cannot  stop  to  speak  of  the  inspiration  of  his  personal  visits 
to  our  camp,  nor  of  the  immeasurable  beneficence  of  his  charities, 
that  did  not  cease  with  the  close  of  the  war,  but  have  through 
thirty  years  and  more  smoothed  the  weary  path  of  many  a  dis 
abled  veteran. 

I  would  like  to  tell  of  Mr.  Forbes  in  other  relations  than  as  the 
friend  of  the  soldier, — of  his  keen  foresight  in  business,  the 
.balanced  wisdom  of  his  practical  counsels,  his  forceful  cham 
pionship  of  political  purity,  and  of  the  numberless  streams  of  his 
benevolence,  only  exceeded  in  beauty  by  the  modesty  with  which 
they  were  poured  forth.  It  would  be  a  delight  to  draw  aside,  for  a 
moment,  the  veil  of  his  lovely  home-life;  but  I  must  be  satisfied 
here  with  celebrating  in  my  honored  friend  his  supreme  fidelity  to 
that  strenuous  strain  of  loyalty  in  his  ancestral  traditions  drawn 
from  generations  of  Highland  chiefs,  that  gave  to  us  a  patriotism 
broader  and  finer  than  the  devotion  of  any  Scottish  clan,  and  a 
helpfulness  larger  and  richer  than  any  Old-World  beneficence. 

Of  Mr.  Forbes  I  may  say  as  Milton  did  of  Lycidas: — 

"His  fame  grows  not  on  merely  mortal  soil, 
Nor  in  the  glistering  foil 
Set  off  to  the  world,  nor  in  broad  rumor  lies; 
But  lives  and  spreads  aloft  by  those  pure  eyes 
And  perfect  witness  of  all-judging  Jove 
As  he  pronounces  lastly  on  each  deed — 
Of  so  much  fame  in  heaven  expect  thy  meed." 

Note   16,  page  292. — In  Memoriam  Ulysses  S.  Grant:  A  Dis 
course  preached  at  First  Parish  Church,  Framingham,  Mass., 
Sunday,  August  9,  1885,  by  Rev.  Charles  A.  Humphreys: — 
"He  that  humbleth  himself  shall  be  exalted."— LUKE  xiv.  n. 

As  I  recall  that  marvellous  career  which  yesterday  ended  in  a 
march  of  triumph  to  the  tomb,  the  one  characteristic  that  rises 


330  NOTES 

most  frequently  upon  the  attention  and  the  one  key  that  offers 
a  solution  of  its  marvel  is  humility. 

"Nearest  the  throne  of  God  must  be 
The  footstool  of  humility," 

and  the  highest  earthly  throne  that  this  age  has  seen  reared  in 
the  sight  of  the  world  was  reached  by  the  humblest  of  men,  by 
a  man  who  was  willing  to  take  the  second  place, — indeed,  to  loss 
himself  in  a  cause,  to  sink  his  own  aspirations  in  loyalty  to  his 
country's  need.  The  minds  of  the  people  are  now  filled  with  the 
exaltation  that  he  attained, — with  the  honors  that  have  been 
so  heaped  upon  him  in  these  later  years  that  a  National  Museum 
has  been  found  their  only  fitting  depository;  with  that  triumphal 
journey  round  the  world,  a  journey  such  as  no  other  man,  be  he 
king  or  conqueror,  ever  made,  all  the  greatest  of  earth's  potentates 
receiving  him  as  a  peer  and  all  the  peoples  pouring  adulation  at 
his  feet;  and  now  with  that  last  journey  that  draws  the  whole 
nation  into  uncovered  ranks  of  silent  grief  to  line  the  lifeless 
body's  pathway  to  the  grave,  and  wakes  a  universal  requiem 
whose  mournful  cadence  sweeps,  not  only  through  every  city  and 
village  of  this  land,  but  whose  far-away  echoes  are  heard  in  Eng 
land's  ancient  Abbey,  nor  will  they  cease  till  they  circle  with  sad 
but  admiring  remembrance  the  circumference  of  the  globe.  But 
let  me  lead  your  thoughts  away  from  this  unparalleled  exaltation 
to  a  humility  as  peerless,  and  find  the  key  to  this  marvellous 
fame  in  a  no  less  marvellous  simplicity.  For  this  man,  who  in 
1880  strode  "the  earth  like  a  colossus,"  in  1860  found  "none  so 
poor  to  do  him  reverence."  The  man  who  in  1865  let  fall  his 
mailed  hand,  like  the  hammer  of  Thor,  and  with  one  blow  crushed 
the  giant,  Rebellion,  in  1861  could  not  get  even  a  hearing  for  his 
request  to  serve  in  any  lowest  position.  For  five  years  previous  to 
1860  Grant's  life  was  a  seeming  failure.  He  had  put  his  hand  to 
the  plough,  but  failed  to  wring  a  satisfactory  subsistence  from  the 
earth.  He  had  put  his  mind  to  business  with  as  little  success; 
and,  when  the  war  broke  out,  he  was  sweeping  out  a  leather  store, 
and  running  on  errands,  or  making  a  poor  attempt  at  a  bargain 
behind  the  counter.  Who  could  have  imagined  in  this  leather- 
seller  of  Galena  the  making  of  the  greatest  captain  of  the  age? 


NOTES  331 

Yet  the  elements  were  all  there,  and  chief  among  them  was 
humility.  For  had  he  not  already  a  record  of  which  he  might 
be  proud?  Had  he  not,  a  youth  of  twenty-four,  thrown  himself 
into  the  deadly  breach  at  Palo  Alto,  and  been  promoted  twice 
for  gallantry  at  Molino  del  Rey  and  Chapultepec,  and  mentioned 
in  all  the  dispatches  for  distinguished  conduct  at  the  capture  of 
the  City  of  Mexico?  In  this  last  action,  Grant  exhibited  some 
of  his,  afterward  famed,  characteristics.  In  the  advance  upon  the 
city,  the  vanguard  came  upon  a  parapet  that  obstructed  the  way, 
and,  finding  themselves  exposed  to  its  raking  fire,  all  sought 
such  shelter  as  they  could  find,  except  Lieutenant  Grant,  who, 
regardless  of  danger,  personally  reconnoitred  the  position,  and 
soon  returned  and  called  out,  "Captain,  I've  found  a  way  to 
flank  the  enemy,"  and  the  captain  replied,  "Well,  go  on,  we'll 
follow."  And  the  work  was  carried.  From  this  first  flank 
movement,  with  a  handful  of  men,  to  those  masterly  marchings 
by  the  left  flank  that  pushed  Lee  and  his  sixty  thousand  Con 
federates  from  the  Rapidan  to  Richmond,  and  that  last  flank 
movement  that  drew  Lee  out  of  Richmond  into  the  open 
country  to  be  cut  up  piecemeal  by  Sheridan's  cavalry  and  to  be 
utterly  blocked  at  Appomattox,  Grant's  strategy  was  ever  the 
same, — a  bold  front  and,  at  the  same  time,  a  move  for  a  better 
position. 

And,  in  this  advance  upon  the  City  of  Mexico,  Grant  showed 
his  fertility  of  resource  at  critical  moments.  To  guard  the 
approach  to  one  of  the  strongest  gates,  a  parapet  had  been 
thrown  forward  and  a  cannon  mounted  upon  it.  There  was  no 
possible  way  to  flank  it;  but  Grant  instantly  conceived,  and 
speedily  carried  out,  the  extraordinary  plan  of  seizing  a  neigh 
boring  church  and  mounting  a  howitzer  in  the  belfry,  and  his 
own  hand  trained  the  gun  that  drove  the  enemy  from  the 
parapet,  and  in  a  few  hours  opened  the  way  for  the  entrance 
of  our  victorious  arms. 

But,  spite  of  these  signal  achievements  and  these  brilliant 
openings  into  military  glory,  the  young  captain  left  the  army, 
and  seemed  just  as  content  with  obscurity  as  with  acting  before 
the  eyes  of  the  nation.  All  truly  great  men  are  willing  to  bide 
their  time,  for  they  are  humble  before  the  majestic  and  inscrutable 


332  NOTES 

march  of  destiny;  and  most  great  men  have  had  years  of  ripen 
ing  in  obscurity  before  they  entered  into  the  full  fruitage  of  grand 
achievement.  So  Grant  had  his  seven  years  of  growth  in  secret; 
and,  because  he  was  humble,  it  became  a  natural  and  vigorous 
growth.  In  these  years,  he  laid  deep  and  secure  the  foundations 
of  his  after  success.  His  seeming  failures  knit  the  fibres  of  his 
patience  till  they  became  withes  of  steel.  His  lack  of  friendly 
help  taught  him  self-reliance,  and  his  poverty,  to  be  content  with 
a  little.  A  humble  man  can  learn  of  calamity,  while  a  proud 
man  will  be  wearing  himself  away  against  the  bosses  of  the 
Almighty's  shield.  Grant's  character  deepened  and  broadened 
in  his  unhonored  obscurity.  Amid  "the  slings  and  arrows  of 
outrageous  fortune,"  he  was  as  cool  and  patient  as  under  the 
leaden  rain  of  the  hostile  musketry.  If  he  did  not  succeed  in 
one  effort,  he  calmly  set  about  another.  If  he  could  not  push 
forward  in  a  given  line  of  labor,  he  turned  to  another  without 
losing  heart  or  hope.  By  reason  of  his  quietness  of  manner  and 
modesty  of  assumption,  those  about  him  could  not  suspect  his 
abilities.  He  did  not  suspect  them  himself,  for  his  time  was  not 
yet  come. 

Upon  this  humble  leather-seller  of  Galena,  now  thirty-nine 
years  of  age,  one  April  morning  flashed  the  glare  of  Sumter's 
beleaguered  guns.  It  lit  in  his  heart,  as  in  so  many  others,  a  fresh 
flame  of  loyalty;  and,  like  so  many  others,  he  threw  himself  for 
all  he  was  worth  into  the  scale  of  the  country's  salvation.  What 
that  worth  was  he  little  knew,  although  he  might  even  now  have 
been  justified  in  holding  it  at  a  high  valuation.  But  his  genuine 
modesty  kept  his  own  estimate  well  within  the  circle  of  sure  ac 
complishment,  and  he  offered  his  services  to  the  government  in 
any  lowest  capacity;  but,  while  waiting  for  the  answer  that 
never  came,  he  wasted  not  one  moment,  but  turned,  as  was  his 
nature,  to  do  what  he  could,  and  that  was  to  drill  a  company. 
Thus  began  that  humble  service  which,  step  by  step,  in  rapid 
but  sure  upward  progress,  led  him  to  the  loftiest  power.  In  May, 
he  commanded  a  company;  in  June,  a  regiment;  in  July,  a  bri 
gade;  in  August,  a  division;  and  in  less  than  nine  months  he 
was  a  Major  General,  had  command  of  the  largest  military  divi 
sion  in  the  country,  and  had  won  at  Fort  Donelson  the  first  sub- 


NOTES  333 

stantial  victory  for  the  Union  arms.  And  yet  every  step  of  this 
promotion  was  unsought, — was,  indeed,  thrust  upon  him  by  the 
necessities  of  the  situation.  By  the  upward  gravitation  of  his 
personal  achievement,  he  reached  such  heights  of  power  as  he 
was  best  fitted  to  command.  No  career  was  ever  less  controlled 
by  luck.  He  moved  like  a  fate  to  his  destined  end,  and  with  the 
least  possible  friction;  for,  if  his  humility  kept  him  from  grasp 
ing  at  power,  it  also  made  him  willing  to  take  a  responsibility  that 
he  knew  how  to  fill.  Thus,  the  truest  humility  nourishes  the 
noblest  self-reliance  and  the  strongest  self-assertion.  Though 
you  would  not  press  yourself  forward,  you  can  dare  anything  for 
duty.  Though  you  would  not  lift  a  finger  to  defend  yourself, 
you  would  stand  like  a  rock  for  your  country.  So  Grant  modestly 
took  such  responsibilities  as  he  found  he  could  fulfil,  and  never 
stopped  in  his  pursuit  of  enemies  to  take  any  of  the  prizes  of  honor 
held  out  by  his  friends.  Thus,  after  Vicksburg  capitulated  on 
the  4th  of  July,  1863,  making  the  largest  surrender  of  men  and 
material  that  modern  warfare  had  seen,  Grant  did  not  set  about 
having,  as  well  he  might,  a  4th  of  July  glorification,  but  at  once 
prepared  to  use  the  new  confidence  of  victory  in  pushing  the 
enemy  with  fresh  vigor.  So,  when  Richmond  fell,  it  did  not 
occur  to  him,  as  it  would  have  to  most  commanders,  to  make  a 
grand  parade  of  entrance  into  the  city;  but  he  at  once  moved  to 
the  left  to  capture  the  retreating  Confederates.  And,  at  the 
surrender  of  Appomattox, — when,  after  four  years  of  Herculean 
effort  and  untold  sacrifices  on  the  part  of  the  North,  the  giant 
form  of  rebellion  lay  prostrate  at  his  feet, — Grant  would  not 
make  any  parade  of  surrender,  would  not  cast  upon  the  con 
quered  one  shadow  of  humiliation,  but,  with  a  generosity  akin  to 
the  divine  pity,  at  once  spread  a  table  before  him  in  the  presence 
of  his  enemies,  and  said,  Arise,  and  eat!  Well  has  it  been  said, — 

"His  sword's  bright  conquests  pale  beneath 
Its  mercy,  when  it  sought  its  sheath." 

I  think  none  of  you  will  suspect  me  of  vindictiveness,  and  yet 
I  will  confess  to  a  momentary  sense  of  disappointment,  shared 
indeed  by  nearly  all  the  Union  troops,  when  the  order  came  for 
us  to  turn  homeward  without  any  of  the  dramatic  formalities  of 


334  NOTES 

surrender.  I  had  not  forgotten  the  picture  in  the  school  history 
that  had  fired  my  boyish  imagination  by  its  portrayal  of  the 
surrender  of  Lord  Cornwallis,  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  this  was 
a  grander  occasion  and  a  more  famous  victory.  But  our  thought 
was  unworthy,  and  our  vision  was  short-sighted.  Grant,  how 
ever,  with  a  marvellous  greatness  of  soul  that  took  in  the  broad 
perspective  of  the  years,  said:  "No!  They  are  once  more  our 
countrymen."  And,  as  he  rode  through  our  lines  and  the  artil 
lery  began  to  pour  forth  their  salutations  in  his  honor,  he  ordered 
the  salvos  to  cease,  lest  they  should  wound  the  feelings  of  the 
prisoners, — thus  not  only  exhibiting  his  own  magnanimity,  but 
laying  the  foundation  for  that  reconstruction  of  the  relations 
between  the  North  and  the  South  which  has  obliterated  all 
sectional  feeling,  and  to-day  shows  us  one  country,  from 
Maine  to  the  Gulf  and  from  ocean  to  ocean,  mourning  alike 
our  hero  dead. 

It  may  be  well  to  recall  here  General  Lee's  own  impression  of 
what  I  will  call  the  sublimest  act  of  Grant's  military  life.  He 
said:  "I  wish  to  do  simple  justice  to  General  Grant,  when  I  say 
that  his  treatment  of  the  Army  of  Northern  Virginia  at  its  sur 
render  is  without  a  parallel  in  the  history  of  the  civilized  world. 
When  my  poor  soldiers  had  nothing  to  eat,  he  issued  the  humane 
order  that  forty  thousand  rations  should  be  immediately  fur 
nished  them.  When  I  was  directing  one  of  my  staff  to  make  out 
a  list  of  things  to  be  surrendered,  and  named  'the  horses,'  Grant 
said:  'No,  no,  General  Lee,  not  a  horse!  the  men  will  need  them 
for  the  spring  ploughing.'  When  Grant  said  that  my  officers 
might  retain  their  side  arms,  again  I  was  thankful;  but,  when  he 
disclaimed  any  desire  to  make  a  parade  of  surrender,  I  was 
indeed  overjoyed,  and  felt  that  that  was  a  touch  of  magnanimity 
that  bespoke  a  great  soul."  Great  soul,  indeed!  How,  in  the 
perspective  of  the  years  and  before  the  levelling  of  death,  thy 
act  of  generous  humility  stands  out  in  surpassing  grandeur 
beyond  any  possible  glory  of  victorious  triumph! 

It  is  worth  remembering,  to  the  supreme  credit  of  Grant,  that 
he  persisted  in  maintaining  these  generous  terms,  even  against 
the  determined  efforts  of  his  superior,  Secretary  Stanton;  and 
that,  when  Charles  Sumner  led  a  committee  of  the  Senate  in  asking 


NOTES  335 

him  to  allow  his  picture  to  be  painted  in  a  proposed  historical 
portrayal  of  the  surrender,  Grant,  with  a  fine  sense  of  propriety 
and  a  truer  humility,  again  said:  "No:  they  are  our  brothers. 
Let  us  not  perpetuate  their  humiliation!"  And  he  kept  to  the 
end  this  generous  magnanimity;  and  even  in  that  last  fearful 
fight  with  malignant  disease,  when  every  moment  was  torture, 
and  every  effort  was,  as  he  said,  one  more  nail  in  his  coffin,  he 
took  pains  to  write  this  message,  "It  has  been  an  inestimable 
blessing  to  me  that  my  life  has  been  prolonged  till  I  have  seen 
for  myself  the  happy  harmony  between  those  who  but  a  few 
short  years  ago  were  engaged  in  mortal  conflict."  And  he  made 
this  his  farewell  message,  which,  like  Washington's  farewell 
address,  went  straight  to  the  hearts  of  the  people,  "Let  every 
man  look  henceforth  to  the  prosperity  of  a  united  country." 

No  wonder  the  Southern  heart  responded  with  peculiar  ear 
nestness.  As  one  of  their  journals  beautifully  says:  "Those  on 
whose  downfall  the  temple  of  his  fame  was  builded  will  sow  no 
thorns  on  his  grave  to  prick  the  violets  planted  there." 

But  besides  this  generous  magnanimity  to  his  country's  foes, 
this  self-forgetting  devotion  to  his  country's  good,  Grant's  humil 
ity  nourished  also  the  noblest  self-reliance  and  the  strongest 
self-assertion;  and  let  us  now  turn  to  see  how  he  exhibited  these 
his  most  famous  qualities.  I  know  of  nothing  in  military  annals 
to  compare  with  Grant's  pertinacity  of  purpose,  his  iron  deter 
mination,  his  immovable  confidence  of  success.  The  old  Scot 
tish  clan  which  claims  General  Grant  as  its  most  noted  descend 
ant  had  for  its  war-cry,  "Stand  fast,  Craig  Ellachie."  It  seems 
as  if  a  happy  genius  had  at  every  great  crisis  of  Grant's  career 
whispered  to  his  silent  soul  the  same  old  cry,  "Stand  fast,  thou 
crag."  And  he  stood  fast.  When,  on  reaching  the  field  at  Fort 
Donelson,  he  found  that  his  right  flank  had  been  crushed,  he 
said  at  once  to  his  generals,  "Gentlemen,  this  position  must  be 
retaken."  And  when  that  was  done,  and  his  troops  came  face 
to  face  with  the  frowning  parapets  behind  which  was  a  force 
stronger  than  his  own,  he  thought  not  of  the  possibility  of  failure, 
and  said  to  General  Buckner,  who  asked  his  terms:  "I  have  no 
terms  but  unconditional  surrender.  I  propose  to  move  at  once 
upon  your  works."  At  Shiloh,  when  his  troops  had  been  defeated 


336  NOTES 

and  driven  back  to  the  river,  and  General  Buell  said  to  him: 
"What  preparations  have  you  made  for  retreat?  These  trans 
ports  will  not  take  ten  thousand  men  across  the  river,  and  we 
have  thirty  thousand,"  Grant  replied,  "I  have  not  despaired  of 
whipping  them  yet;  and,  if  they  whip  me  and  I  have  to  cross  the 
river,  ten  thousand  is  all  I  shall  need  transports  for."  And 
he  gave  orders  to  assume  the  offensive  in  the  morning.  So  it 
was  in  many  a  fight.  When  both  sides  seemed  exhausted,  Grant 
would  go  at  it  again,  and  win  the  advantage. 

After  Shiloh,  Grant  passed  through  the  severest  and  most 
depressing  period  of  his  fortunes.  But  it  only  brought  out  into 
stronger  relief  the  sublime  patience  of  his  resolve  to  serve  his 
country  to  the  uttermost,  whether  he  himself  rose  or  fell.  When 
Sherman  wrote  him,  "You  have  richly  earned  promotion,"  Grant 
replied,  "I  care  nothing  for  rank,  so  long  as  our  arms  are  suc 
cessful."  A  very  short  time  before  Vicksburg,  it  seemed  as  if 
the  jealousy  of  one  of  his  superiors  in  rank,  and  the  distrust  of 
many  of  his  subordinates,  and  the  despondency  of  the  whole 
country  would  make  Grant  the  scapegoat  of  their  envy  and 
despair,  and  drive  him  from  his  command.  But  he  was  saved 
to  the  country  by  Lincoln's  sturdy  sense,  which  detected  the 
staying  quality  of  the  General's  determination;  and,  when  he 
was  urged  to  depose  Grant,  he  said,  in  his  homely  but  meaningful 
way,  "I  rather  like  the  man:  I  think  we'll  try  him  a  little  longer." 
That  little  longer  gave  us  Vicksburg,  and  satisfied  the  country 
that  to  this  silent  General  it  could  anchor  as  to  a  rock.  "  Stand 
fast,  thou  crag,"  the  country  then  replied.  Thus,  Grant  came 
to  the  throne  of  his  power  by  the  simple  logic  of  necessity.  It 
was  the  time  when  war  had  ceased  to  be  a  play  of  politicians  at 
Washington  or  a  masterly  inactivity  of  generals  at  the  front; 
when  the  farce  of  a  holiday  parade  had  been  enacted,  and  the 
first  scenes  of  the  fearful  tragedy  had  already  begun,  and  the 
people  were  ready  for  the  boundless  sacrifice.  Then  there  was 
need  of  a  leader  like  Grant,  who,  at  his  very  first  battle  at  Bel- 
mont,  on  being  surrounded,  burned  his  camps  behind  him,  and 
said,  "I  guess  we  can  cut  our  way  out  as  we  cut  our  way  in"; 
and  who,  at  Vicksburg,  cut  himself  away  from  his  base  of  sup 
plies,  and,  leaving  in  his  rear  a  larger  army  of  the  enemy  than  his 


NOTES  337 

own,  turned  with  a  sublime  effrontery  to  strike  the  army  that  was 
coming  to  relieve  Vicksburg,  and  then  turned  back  and  accom 
plished  the  surrender.  In  battles  where  Southern  desperation 
was  likely  to  weigh  equally  at  least  with  Northern  loyalty, 
Grant's  personal  qualities  determined  largely  the  successful 
result.  He  had  a  force  of  will  that  could  turn  obstacles  into 
helps.  He  moved  with  the  assurance  of  destiny  to  the  accom 
plishment  of  his  purposes.  After  he  had,  at  Vicksburg,  opened 
the  mighty  Mississippi  till  it  "rolled  unvexed  to  the  sea,"  he 
took  command  of  all  the  Western  armies,  and  rolled  them  toward 
Chattanooga  in  resistless  tide,  till  they  surged  up  even  to  the 
clouds,  and  on  Missionary  Ridge  and  Lookout  Mountain  over 
whelmed  rebellion.  Then,  coming  East,  how  he  stood  before 
Washington  like  the  "shadow  of  a  great  rock  in  a  weary  land," 
giving  us  the  confidence  that  the  uttermost  would  be  done  to 
crush  the  country's  foes!  With  what  tremendous  energy  he 
started  on  that  fearful  campaign  which  in  a  month  disabled  fifty 
thousand  of  his  men,  and  left  its  gory  track  from  the  Wilderness 
to  Cold  Harbor!  To  the  people  of  the  North,  he  seemed  like  a 
grim  viking  ordering  each  day  a  fresh  skull  of  blood  for  his 
butcher's  feast.  And  he  was  called  a  butcher.  But  we  who 
followed  him  knew  that  he  was  as  tender  as  a  woman,  and  that 
he  regretted  every  drop  of  heroic  sacrifice.  There  was  no  way 
but  this.  Lee  was  too  skilful  himself  to  be  conquered  by  brilliant 
manoeuvres.  What  was  needed  was  hard  blows  and  constant 
wearing  away  of  the  armies  of  the  rebellion.  To  this,  Grant 
bent  the  whole  force  of  his  giant  energies.  After  the  Wilderness, 
when  everybody  else  was  discouraged  and  feared  to  uncover 
the  way  to  Washington,  Grant  said:  "If  Lee  is  in  my  rear,  I  am 
in  his."  "I  propose  to  fight  it  out  on  this  line,  if  it  takes  all 
summer,"  and,  having  made  his  dispositions  for  the  morrow, 
"went  to  his  tent  and  slept  soundly  till  morning."  All  through 
these  thirty  days  of  battle,  with  their  appalling  spectacles  of 
suffering  and  their  terrible  losses,  he  never  wavered  nor  thought 
of  retiring.  When  Burnside  reported,  in  the  fearful  struggle  at 
Spottsylvania,  that  he  had  lost  connection  with  Hancock,  Grant 
sent  this  response,  "Push  the  enemy:  that  is  the  best  way  to 
connect."  When  General  Lee  was  told,  after  the  repulse  of  the 


338  NOTES 

Union  troops  at  Cold  Harbor,  that  Grant  was  in  retreat,  he 
replied:  "That  cannot  be  true.  Grant  never  retreats."  And 
it  was  so.  While  giving  these  crippling  blows  to  the  Confeder 
ate  Army,  Grant,  by  his  daily  movements  to  the  left,  got  into 
the  position  he  desired  for  turning  the  flank  of  all  the  armies  de 
fending  Richmond;  and,  at  Petersburg,  he  planted  himself  like 
a  mighty  rock  beetling  toward  the  raging  rebel  sea,  and  saying, 
"Thus  far  and  no  farther,  and  here  shall  thy  proud  waves  be 
stayed."  And  they  were  stayed.  And  so  this  mighty  man  of 
war  conquered  an  enduring  peace;  and,  when  he  took  off  his 
mailed  glove,  his  hand  was  as  soft  as  a  child's.  "His  strength 
was  as  the  strength  of  ten,  because  his  heart  was  pure."  Be 
cause  he  humbled  himself,  he  subdued,  not  only  the  rebel  arms, 
but  the  rebel  hearts;  and,  because  he  was  willing  to  become  at 
once  a  simple  citizen,  the  people  lifted  him  upon  a  throne  of 
highest  exaltation, — not  with  the  Caesars  and  Napoleons,  who 
have  waded  through  blood  to  empire,  but  with  the  Washingtons, 
who  have  taken  the  sword  reluctantly  and  sheathed  it  gladly, 
who  in  danger  have  borne  calmly  upon  their  shoulders  the  desti 
nies  of  mighty  States,  who  have  loved  to  serve  their  country 
more  than  their  own  advancement. 

I  cannot  stop  to  recount  Grant's  victories  of  peace,  no  less 
renowned  than  those  of  war:  his  defence  of  the  financial  integ 
rity  of  the  government,  not  less  heroic,  amid  the  sophistries  and 
temptations  of  the  hour  and  against  the  oppositions  of  good  men, 
than  his  supreme  assumption  of  responsibility  amid  the  repulses 
and  perils  of  the  Wilderness  campaign;  nor  that  other  grander 
victory  which  signalized  his  civil  administration,  the  treaty  of 
Washington,  which  will  some  time  lead  the  world  to  the  arbitra 
ments  of  peace.  Nor  can  I  stop  to  recall  that  grander  victory 
still, — that  serene  mastery  of  himself  in  disease  and  death  that 
has  fitly  crowned  his  earthly  triumphs: — 

"Life's  closing  scenes  without  a  stain, 
His  death-march  trod  through  fiery  pain, 
With  heart  unmoved:  how  these  unroll 
Heroic  grandeurs  of  the  soul 
In  victories  whose  lessons  stand 
A  light  and  promise  to  the  land!" 


NOTES  339 

Thus,  I  have  traced  the  grand  and  imposing  qualities  that  blaze 
out  before  the  world's  admiring  gaze  to  their  silent,  secret  source 
in  humility  of  spirit.  No  self-love  blurred  Grant's  intuitions  of 
duty.  No  worldly  considerations  ever  rose  up  to  block  the 
path  of  his  loyal  devotion.  When  General  Sherman  wrote  to 
Grant  in  1864,  congratulating  him  on  his  appointment  as 
Lieutenant  General,  he  spoke  thus,  with  the  spirit  of  a  true 
prophet:  "You  are  now  Washington's  legitimate  successor,  and 
occupy  a  position  of  almost  dangerous  elevation.  But,  if  you 
can  continue  as  heretofore  to  be  yourself,  simple,  honest,  and 
unpretending,  you  will  enjoy  through  life  the  respect  and  love 
of  friends,  and  the  homage  of  millions  of  your  countrymen." 
That  prophecy  has  been  more  than  fulfilled.  Grant  did  keep 
his  simplicity  to  the  very  height  of  his  power.  When  he  com 
manded  a  million  men  in  arms,  he  did  not  lift  himself  above  the 
humblest  in  the  ranks.  On  the  occasion  of  a  journey  from 
Culpeper  to  Washington,  just  before  he  was  to  set  in  motion  the 
colossal  enginery  of  war,  a  special  car  was  assigned  to  him  and 
his  staff;  but,  when  he  saw  the  guard  keeping  out  the  common 
soldiers  who,  with  their  leaves  of  absence,  were  pressing  for  a 
chance  to  ride  to  Washington,  he  said,  "I  occupy  but  one  seat 
in  this  car,  let  as  many  as  can  come  in."  And  he  shared  his  seat 
with  a  private  all  the  way  to  Alexandria. 

Grant  had  also  that  finest  quality  of  greatness  which  appre 
ciates  greatness  in  others.  He  said,  "I  never  flattered  myself 
that  I  was  entitled  to  the  first  place:  the  men  whom  I  selected 
for  lieutenants  could,  I  believe,  often  have  filled  my  place  better 
than  I  did." 

Friends,  am  I  not  right  in  making  humility  the  finest  aroma  of 
that  most  famous  life?  We  read  in  the  Old  Testament  that 
when  Huldah,  the  prophetess,  came  to  King  Josiah,  whose 
merciful  and  popular  reign  had  revived  Jewish  loyalty  and  re 
established  the  ancient  glory  of  the  Hebrew  state,  she  said, 
"Thus  saith  Jehovah,  Because  thine  heart  was  tender,  and  thou 
hast  humbled  thyself  before  the  Lord,  therefore  thou  shalt  be 
gathered  to  thy  grave  in  peace."  Again  has  that  prophecy  been 
fulfilled,  and  the  greatest  soldier  has  become  the  truest  messenger 
of  peace. 


340  NOTES 

Last  evening,  as  the  slant  rays  of  the  declining  sun  threw 
their  sheen  over  the  Hudson  and  up  the  bluff  by  the  Riverside, 
a  soldier's  bugle  sounded  over  the  great  Captain's  grave  the  call 
to  sleep.  To-day,  in  the  proud  hearts  of  a  nation  saved,  he  rises 
to  live  again  and  forever. 

"His  battles  fought,  his  duties  done, 
His  country's  life  by  valor  won, 
That  call  was  but  a  reveille 
To  wake  to  immortality." 


TRIBUTES 


I 
ORATION 

AT  THE  DEDICATION  OF  THE  SOLDIERS'  MONU 
MENT  IN  DORCHESTER,  SEPTEMBER  17, 
1867,  BY  REV.  CHARLES  A.  HUMPHREYS. 

FRIENDS  AND  FELLOW-CITIZENS: — 

As  we  stand  under  the  shadow  of  this  monu 
ment  which  we  dedicate  to-day,  its  silent 
pointing  to  the  heavens,  its  voiceless  record  of 
noble  names,  remind  us  that  our  theme  is 
beyond  the  power  of  words  to  portray,  and  that 
silence  is  here  the  most  fitting  eloquence. 
All  great  things  are  silent, — the  eternal  hills, 
the  ocean  in  its  depths.  They  have  no  speech 
nor  language;  yet  their  peaceful  stillness  is 
more  eloquent  than  the  roar  of  tempests  at  the 
surface,  or  the  blast  of  winds  at  their  summit. 
So  this  silent  orator  tells  more  eloquently  of 
the  grand  achievements  and  the  glorious  deeds 


342  TRIBUTES 

of  our  heroes  than  any  spoken  eulogy  that 
mortal  lips  can  frame.  How  impressive  is  its 
simple  silence!  It  bears  no  record  of  the 
valor  of  our  soldiers;  it  lavishes  no  praise  on 
their  patriotic  devotion;  it  does  not  even  name 
the  bloody  fields  where  one  and  another  laid 
down  their  precious  lives;  but  so  long  as  this 
shaft  shall  stand,  so  long  as  its  stony  finger  shall 
point  to  the  open  heavens, — so  long  shall  it 
tell  the  story  of  their  sacrifice,  and  point  the 
passers-by  to  those  lofty  and  divine  principles 
of  liberty  from  which  they  drew  their  courage 
and  their  strength. 

It  is  a  high  and  sacred  duty  that  we  this  day 
fulfil.  It  is  not  only  our  martyr  brothers  that 
we  honor  by  this  memorial,  but  also  ourselves. 
By  it,  we  pledge  ourselves  to  a  like  devotion. 
If  we  honor  them  because  they  died  that  the 
nation  might  live,  let  us  show  our  sincerity 
by  so  living  that  the  nation  may  have  more 
abundant  life.  Let  us  not  excuse  ourselves  by 
saying  that  we  cannot  of  ourselves  do  much. 
It  was  not  with  such  faint-heartedness  that  they 
girt  on  their  armor.  Our  little  band  of  martyrs 
could  not  save  the  nation;  yet  they  gave  what 
they  could,  and  all  they  could,  to  the  common 
cause,  and  so  are  equal  sharers  of  the  common 
triumph.  It  is  the  noble  distinction  of  our 
country  not  only  that  the  people  can  rule  it, 


IN   HONOR    OF   THE   CITIZEN    SOLDIERS    OF  DORCHESTER 

WHO    FELL   IN   THE   WAR   OF   THE    REBELLION, 

1861-1865 


,1  i  J  ?  u ;;  jJ  J ,] 


TRIBUTES  343 

but  that  they  alone  can  save  it.  Imperial 
Rome  could  not  live  without  her  Caesar. 
Alexander  yielded  to  his  successors  the  em 
pire  of  half  the  world;  but  without  him,  it 
could  not  keep  its  integrity.  All  the  ancient 
dynasties  crumbled  with  the  ashes  of  their 
leaders.  The  supremacy  of  modern  European 
nations  depends  chiefly  on  the  diplomacy  of  a 
few.  Bismarck  builds  a  mighty  kingdom  on 
the  ruins  of  the  German  Confederation,  while 
France  loses  caste  with  the  duplicity  of  Na 
poleon,  and  England  comes  to  a  standstill 
with  the  obstinate  selfishness  of  her  ministry: 
but  our  nation  can  decline  only  with  the  decline 
of  public  virtue,  and  can  live  only  in  the  life  of 
the  people.  Our  hundred  martyrs  are  only  a 
handful  compared  with  the  hundreds  of 
thousands  of  victims  offered  on  the  altar  of 
the  country;  yet  each  of  them  fought  for  the 
nation  and  not  for  any  leader,  and  in  each  one's 
sacrifice  the  nation  found  salvation.  It  is  not 
presumption  then,  but  the  very  spirit  of  our 
institutions  to  raise  an  enduring  memorial  of 
each  and  every  martyr  of  liberty,  and  to 
give  a  national  significance  to  each  hero's 
devotion. 

Will  any  one  say  that,  because  ours  was  a 
civil  war,  memorials  of  its  victims  must  of 
necessity  perpetuate  sectional  bitterness?  T 


344  TRIBUTES 

repel  the  insinuation.  Not  one  of  those  whose 
devotion  we  celebrate  to-day  fought  for  a 
section  or  a  party,  but  for  the  whole  country. 
Not  one  of  them  lifted  his  arm  against  the 
South,  but  against  treason  wherever  it  might 
rear  its  horrid  front.  They  were  not  the  victims 
of  passion,  but  the  martyrs  of  principle.  We 
celebrate  not  the  triumph  of  a  section,  but  the 
saving  of  a  nation.  The  names  which  we  with 
pious  care  have  cut  in  the  enduring  stone  were 
long  before  claimed  by  the  Genius  of  Liberty, 
and  set  with  more  enduring  lustre  among  the 
brightest  pearls  in  her  diadem.  Need  we  then 
hesitate  to  reveal  our  memorial  to  the  world? 
Will  any  true  son  of  liberty  ever  turn  with 
averted  face  from  its  brilliant  record?  When 
our  nation  is  again  united  in  a  common  devotion 
to  the  principles  of  freedom,  which  are  the 
very  life  of  the  republic,  shall  we  then  be 
ashamed  to  recall  the  names  of  those  who  died 
in  her  defence? 

But  even  if  our  monument,  besides  cele 
brating  the  virtues  of  our  heroes,  should  also 
recall  the  crimes  of  the  Rebels,  and  revive  the 
long-smothered  indignation  against  the  plotters 
of  treason  in  the  South,  still  let  it  stand.  We 
may  forgive,  but  we  cannot  forget, — we  must 
not  forget.  We  owe  it  to  our  brothers  not  to 
forget  their  sacrifices.  Upon  their  wasted  lives 


TRIBUTES  345 

we  are  rearing  the  structure  of  a  nobler  civiliza 
tion.  Their  blood  has  nourished  the  seeds  of 
liberty,  their  names  will  ever  be  its  truest 
inspiration.  Shall  we  reap  the  fruits  of  their 
devotion  and  refuse  to  honor  their  memories? 
It  was  the  painful  necessity  of  their  position  to 
fight  against  their  own  flesh  and  blood.  Shall 
we  therefore  conceal  the  record  of  their  fidelity  ? 
Shall  we  not  rather  hold  in  more  abundant 
honor  those  who  left  houses  and  lands  and 
kindred  for  the  sake  of  a  noble  principle? 
How  often  friend  met  friend  in  bloody  fray, 
brother  lifting  the  sword  against  brother! 
They  felt  that  love  of  country  was  a  holier  tie 
than  love  of  kindred;  for  the  happiness  of 
millions  was  involved  in  the  nation's  salvation. 
Let  us  not  forget,  then,  their  self-denying 
devotion.  We  owe  it  to  our  country  not  to 
forget  her  defenders.  The  nation  lives  only 
in  the  devotion  of  the  people;  and  we  must, 
by  every  appreciative  celebration  and  every 
enduring  memorial,  perpetuate  the  remem 
brance  of  those  who  gave  everything  for  her 
salvation.  The  national  character  is  moulded 
by  the  traditions  of  its  own  experience.  The 
masses  of  men  do  not  look  abroad  for  their 
teachings  of  wisdom  and  their  illustrations  of 
heroism,  but  to  their  own  ancestry  and  their 
own  community.  The  strongest  communities 


346  TRIBUTES 

or  peoples  are  those  that  are  richest  in  these 
traditions  of  heroism  and  devotion. 

It  is  not  in  the  decline  of  national  power,  but 
at  its  height,  that  the  memorials  of  greatness 
are  reared.  The  neglect  of  them  is  the  sure 
sign  of  national  weakness  and  decay.  When 
Greece  forgot  the  heroes  of  Marathon,  she 
forgot  also  her  own  glory.  When  Rome  forgot 
Brutus  and  his  compatriots  at  Philippi,  she 
forgot  also  her  own  liberties.  When  England 
forgot  Cromwell,  or  remembered  him  only  to 
disgrace  his  ashes,  she  disgraced  herself,  and 
forgot  her  supremacy  in  the  glittering  attrac 
tions  of  a  luxurious  court.  When  our  country 
shall  forget  to  honor  her  defenders,  shall  neglect 
the  memorials  of  their  heroism,  she  will  have 
forgotten  also  her  own  true  dignity,  and  have 
neglected  the  fountains  of  her  truest  life.  No, 
we  will  not  forget  our  fallen  heroes.  As  long 
as  freedom  has  a  name  to  be  honored  and  loved, 
her  martyrs  shall  be  remembered;  and  if  ever 
we  are  tempted  to  be  false  to  liberty,  their 
blood  will  cry  to  us  from  the  ground,  and  their 
spirits  will  still  rule  us  from  their  urns.  To 
the  people  of  France,  for  long  years  after  his 
death,  the  ashes  of  Napoleon  were  a  more 
potent  spell  than  the  flash  of  a  hundred  thou 
sand  bayonets.  They  cringed  before  the  ghost 
of  the  tyrant  quicker  than  to  the  sword  of  his 


TRIBUTES  347 

tools.  No  such  horrid  nightmare  haunts  the 
graves  of  our  heroes;  yet  the  spell  of  their 
names  shall  be  as  powerful.  For  long  years  to 
come,  yes,  forever  in  the  history  of  our  land, 
the  grave  of  a  martyr  of  liberty  shall  be  stronger 
than  the  throne  of  a  tyrant,  and  the  ashes  of 
her  patriot  defenders  shall  overcome  the  legions 
of  treason  though  they  advance  terrible  as  an 
army  with  banners. 

In  the  war  through  which  we  have  just 
passed,  the  traditions  of  the  Revolution  were  as 
inspiring  as  the  immediate  demands  of  the 
crisis.  We  believed  that  as  God  had  been  with 
our  fathers  He  would  also  be  with  us.  We 
trusted  that  a  like  devotion  to  liberty  would 
meet  a  like  reward.  We  read  and  we  repeated 
to  others  the  story  of  their  sacrifices.  Lexing 
ton  and  Bunker  Hill  were  our  rallying  cries. 
The  blood-stained  snows  of  Valley  Forge 
nerved  our  endurance.  The  triumph  of  York- 
town  inspired  our  faith.  The  Charter  of 
Independence  became  the  certificate  of  the 
national  life.  The  South  threatened  to  violate 
the  sacred  memories  of  the  Revolution  by  calling 
the  roll  of  her  slaves  under  the  shadow  of  Bunker 
Hill.  But  from  beneath  her  hallowed  sod 
there  came  such  inspiration  that  a  million 
freemen  sprang  to  arms  and  defied  the  impious 
threat.  The  Rebels  fought  not  alone  against 


348  TRIBUTES 

Northern  steel,  but  against  their  own  and  the 
country's  history,  against  their  own  and  the 
country's  life.  God  and  nature  were  against 
them.  The  stars  in  their  courses  fought  against 
rebellion.  The  result  was  not  doubtful.  In 
decisive  battles,  truth  always  musters  the  heaviest 
battalions.  So  to-day  those  who  under  the 
specious  pretext  of  a  restored  Union  are  plotting 
for  a  re-established  system  of  oppression,  are 
plotting  against  the  national  life,  and  will 
surely  fail.  Our  country  has  not  vanquished 
her  open  enemies  only  to  fall  by  the  thrusts 
of  her  pretended  friends.  She  is  stronger  than 
ever  before  in  the  faith  of  the  people.  She 
stands  not  now  as  in  the  Revolution,  the 
hopeful  field  whereon  freedom  and  high  civiliza 
tion  might  achieve  new  triumphs  for  man. 
Our  country  holds  to-day  a  grander  position 
and  a  nobler  fame.  She  stands  before  the 
world  as  the  arena  whereon  Freedom  and 
Slavery  have  closed  in  fierce  death-grapple,  and 
Freedom  stands  triumphant.  If  our  fathers 
and  brothers  died  for  a  glorious  hope,  shall  we 
not  live  for  a  grand  fruition?  Our  fathers 
feared  that  the  stripes  of  their  dear-loved 
banner  might  come  to  symbolize  the  exactions 
of  a  foreign  tyranny,  and  our  brothers  died 
with  only  the  hope  that  its  stars  might  not  go 
out  in  disastrous  night.  But  to  us  the  stripes 


TRIBUTES  349 

are  crimson  with  the  blood  of  a  hundred 
thousand  heroes  whose  ebbing  life  was  the 
flood  tide  on  which  our  liberties  rose  for  a 
vantage-ground  of  eternal  security,  and  its 
stars  stand  firm  as  the  stars  in  heaven,  not  only 
undiminished,  but  ever  increasing  in  number 
and  in  lustre. 

What  an  inheritance  has  thus  been  trans 
mitted  to  us  as  the  inspiration  and  the  pledge 
of  our  fidelity!  We  need  not  now  search  the 
annals  of  ancient  history  for  illustrations  of 
heroism  and  patriotic  devotion.  We  need  go 
no  more  to  Marathon  and  Thermopylae.  We 
need  not  appeal  to  Leonidas  to  inspire  our 
courage,  nor  suffer  the  trophies  of  Miltiades 
to  break  our  sleep.  We  need  not  even  go  back 
to  Lexington  and  Bunker  Hill,  to  Prescott  and 
Warren.  We  have  in  our  own  times  as  bright 
a  galaxy  of  noble  names,  as  grand  a  pile  of 
trophies.  Where  are  the  fields  that  shall  dim 
the  lustre  of  Antietam  and  Gettysburg,  of 
Winchester  and  Cedar  Creek,  of  Vicksburg 
and  Port  Hudson,  of  Murfreesborough  and 
Lookout  Mountain?  Where  in  military  annals 
are  the  movements  that  compare  in  rapidity 
with  the  raids  of  Sheridan,  in  grandeur  with 
the  march  of  Sherman,  in  persistency  with  the 
advance  of  Grant?  Where  in  history  are  the 
generals  who  can  cast  a  shade  upon  the  names 


350  TRIBUTES 

of  Lyon  and  Sedgwick  and  Kearney  and 
Macpherson?  Where  are  the  commanders 
braver  than  Rogers  and  Winslow  and  Farragut 
and  Foote?  What  nation  or  people  has  such 
an  illustrious  roll  of  young  heroes — Ellsworth, 
Winthrop,  Baker,  Shaw,  Putnam,  Lowell? 
And  if  we  come  nearer  home,  what  private 
memorial  ever  bore  nobler  names  than  ours? 
Do  you  speak  of  courage  ?  At  Gettysburg,  they 
moved  not  one  step  backward  before  the 
fiercest  onset  of  the  desperate  foe.*  Do  you 
speak  of  gallant  daring?  Their  advance  at 
Kenesaw  Mountain  was  not  checked  till  their 
poor  bodies  were  riddled  with  bullets,  f  Do 
you  speak  of  endurance?  In  the  Wilderness 
for  thirty  days  they  marched  and  fought  and 
intrenched,  and  marched  and  fought  and  in 
trenched,  every  day  nearer  the  Rebel  capitol, 
and  in  the  last  grand  effort  at  Cold  Harbor  met 
defeat  only  with  death. {  Do  you  speak  of 

*  Thos.  B.  Fox,  Jr.,  Captain,  Second  Regiment  Massachu 
setts  Infantry  Volunteers,  died  July  25,  1863,  of  wounds  received 
at  Gettysburg,  Pa. 

f  Henry  W.  Hall,  Adjutant,  Fifty-first  Regiment  Illinois 
Infantry  Volunteers,  fell  June  27,  1864,  pierced  with  eleven 
bullets,  in  the  charge  upon  the  Rebel  intrenchments  at  Kenesaw 
Mountain. 

t  Walter  Humphreys,  Company  A,  Thirteenth  Regiment 
Massachusetts  Infantry  Volunteers,  fell  at  Cold  Harbor,  June 
2,  1864. 


TRIBUTES  351 

fortitude  and  patience  ?  Do  you  not  know  that 
eleven  of  those  whose  names  are  here  sur 
rounded  with  an  enduring  wreath  of  glory  met 
without  a  murmur  a  most  inglorious  death, 
away  from  friends,  without  one  tear  of  sym 
pathy,  wasting  away  inch  by  inch  in  the  loath 
some  confinement  of  the  Rebel  prisons?  I  will 
not  multiply  horrors  in  order  to  magnify  their 
virtues.  But,  tell  me,  is  there  a  brighter  page 
in  history  than  that  which  we  have  stereotyped 
to-day  with  these  familiar  names?  To-day 
we  give  them  to  history;  but  not  alone  to  her 
cold  and  voiceless  record.  We  have  also 
inscribed  their  names  upon  the  tablets  of  our 
hearts,  and  there  they  shall  live  in  a  bright 
immortality  of  grateful  remembrance. 

I  have  spoken  of  the  value  of  our  tradi 
tions  to  patriotic  devotion,  now  so  multiplied 
that  almost  every  fireside  has  its  own  heroic 
tale. 

But  their  value  depends  chiefly  on  connecting 
them  with  the  traditions  of  the  national  life. 
We  must  not  repeat  the  story  of  the  glorious 
deeds  of  our  heroes  without  recalling  also  the 
sacred  principles  for  which  they  risked  their 
precious  lives.  They  fought  first  and  fore 
most  for  the  national  integrity;  but  for  the 
national  integrity  chiefly  because  it  was  the 
synonym  of  universal  liberty.  God  in  his  all- 


352  TRIBUTES 

wise  providence  had  planted  the  vine  of  liberty 
in  this  western  world  at  the  foot  of  the  tree  of 
our  national  life,  and  had  so  entwined  their 
rapid  growths  that  the  axe  could  not  cleave 
them  apart  without  destroying  both,  nor 
could  the  propitious  rains  water  the  roots  of 
liberty  without  nourishing  also  the  national 
life.  As  in  the  Revolution,  the  colonists  did 
not  in  the  beginning  fight  for  independence  but 
for  justice,  yet  were  soon  taught  by  providen 
tial  experience  that  justice  could  not  be  reached 
except  through  independence,  so,  in  the  late 
war,  our  people  did  not  in  the  beginning  fight 
for  freedom,  but  for  the  national  life;  yet  were 
soon  taught  by  providential  events  that  the 
nation  could  not  be  saved  except  through 
liberty.  And  as  at  the  birth  of  religious  liberty 
in  Judea,  God  had  prepared  a  grand  empire 
under  one  head,  its  subjects  obeying  the  same 
laws,  familiar  with  the  same  language,  sharers 
of  a  common  civilization,  and  all  from  the  gates 
of  Hercules  to  the  farthest  Ind  bearing  the  com 
mon  dignity  of  a  Roman  citizen,  and  this  unity 
of  laws  and  language  invited  Christianity  to 
the  easier  conquest  of  the  world,  so  at  the  birth 
of  civil  liberty  in  the  "Mayflower,"  God 
opened  a  wide  continent,  and  raised  up  a  great 
people,  and  gave  them  liberty  for  their  inheri 
tance,  and  freedom  for  their  possession,  and 


TRIBUTES  353 

bade  them  scatter  these  blessings  throughout 
the  world.  For  the  security  of  these  priceless 
treasures,  we  first  won  our  independence  through 
the  devotion  of  our  fathers,  and  now  by  the 
fidelity  of  our  brothers  have  established  our 
nationality  on  the  basis  of  universal  liberty. 
It  only  remains  that  we  still  be  faithful;  that 
we  now  and  forever  link  our  traditions  of 
patriotic  devotion,  so  full  and  fresh  to-day, 
with  the  traditions  of  liberty  which  God  has 
entwined  so  closely  about  our  national  life; 
then  we  shall  enter  upon  such  a  career  of  glory 
as  we  can  scarcely  now  foresee. 

Our  most  immediate  duty  is  to  secure  the 
fruits  of  our  triumph,  and  lay  the  foundation 
of  a  lasting  peace.  Oh  for  a  Hampden  or  a 
Washington,  who,  having  caught  the  spirit 
of  a  great  struggle  and  brought  it  to  a  successful 
close,  can  also,  by  wisdom  and  moderation, 
restrain  the  excesses  of  victory  and  soothe  the 
anger  of  defeat!  Alas  I  our  village  Hampden, 
our  second  Washington  is  gone!  gone  with 
those  who  in  camp  and  field  and  hospital  laid 
their  rich  gifts  of  life  upon  the  altar  of  the 
country!  gone  to  his  boys  whose  bright  and 
gleaming  ranks  beyond  the  river  of  death 
opened  to  welcome  what  we  could  so  hardly 
lose!  Still  we  will  not  repine.  Our  salvation 
does  not  depend  upon  one  man  or  set  of  men, 


3  54  TRIBUTES 

but  upon  the  people,  and  the  lessons  of  this 
war  have  been  too  deeply  burned  into  their 
hearts  for  them  now  to  prove  untrue.  Let  the 
people  see  to  it  that  treason  is  made  odious  and 
rebellion  fully  crushed;  that  loyalty  is  encour 
aged  and  disloyalty  rebuked;  that  liberty  is 
made  the  inalienable  possession  of  every 
inhabitant  of  our  land,  and  that  all  within  our 
borders,  of  whatever  race,  sex,  or  condition, 
are  allowed  free  scope  for  the  development  of 
all  their  powers,  and  are  intrusted  with  all  the 
duties  of  citizenship  for  which  they  may  be 
fitted  by  their  intelligence,  their  capacities, 
or  their  natural  position.  What  a  glorious 
career  will  then  open  to  our  nation!  Fearing 
no  enemies  within  or  without,  she  will  attain 
a  dignity  she  has  not  yet  assumed;  she  will 
be  a  leader  among  the  nations,  too  great  to 
excite  their  envy,  too  magnanimous  to  stir  their 
hate.  Her  freedom  will  be  the  inspiration  of 
every  struggling  people,  and  her  tranquility  the 
rebuke  of  every  trembling  tyranny. 

Yet  not  in  laws  alone  shall  she  lead  the 
nations,  but  in  literatures  and  every  field  of 
knowledge.  We  have  not  only  broken  the 
fetters  of  the  slave,  but  we  have  begun  to 
break  the  fetters  of  the  mind.  As  the  com 
mon  mind  goes  forth  to  mingle  in  strife  or 
sympathy  with  the  minds  of  millions,  and  sees 


TRIBUTES  355 

open  before  it  all  the  opportunities  and  privi 
leges  that  the  greatest  can  possess,  and  feels 
that  it  participates  in  the  dignity  and  glory 
of  the  mighty  mass,  and  sustains  an  equal 
share  in  its  protection  and  support,  it  cannot 
but  expand  with  the  expanding  thought,  and 
must  rise  above  all  mean  conceptions  and 
narrow  views,  and  image  forth  in  its  own 
development  the  grand  unfolding  of  the  na 
tional  life.  Great  nations  beget  great  thoughts ; 
and  it  is  only  with  great  struggles  that  great 
literatures  are  born.  The  relentless  plough  of 
war  has  broken  the  surface  of  the  popular 
mind,  and  brought  up  the  rich  sub-soil  of  deep 
convictions  and  broader  aims,  and  it  now  lies 
furrowed  and  fallow  for  the  sowing  of  what 
ever  thoughts  befit  a  great  nation  and  a  free 
people. 

Would  that  some  Homer  or  Virgil  or  Dante 
might  arise  to  catch  the  spirit  of  the  age  and 
mould  the  aspirations  of  the  people  into  a 
worthy  epic  that  would  be  a  priceless  legacy  to 
all  coming  time!  Or  rather,  would  that  there 
might  arise  one  greater  than  they  all!  For  the 
struggle  through  which  we  have  passed  de 
veloped  more  of  daring  adventure  and  thrilling 
romance,  more  of  calm  endurance  and  heroic 
devotion  than  Virgil  ever  saw,  or  Homer  ever 
sung;  and  its  terrible  earnestness  and  fearful 


356  TRIBUTES 

sacrifices  would  furnish  the  theme  of  a  "divine 
tragedy"  that  would  need  a  greater  than 
Dante  to  portray.  The  age  must  make  its 
own  interpreter.  Meanwhile  we  can  all  do 
something  to  establish  and  perpetuate  the 
principles  for  which  our  brothers  died.  Let 
us  see  to  it  that  the  rich  seeds  of  precious  lives 
that  have  been  sown  broadcast  over  the  land 
bear  living  fruit  in  a  purified  government  and  a 
regenerated  people.  Let  us  catch  the  spirit 
of  the  age,  and  press  on  in  the  path  of  the 
nation's  destiny.  The  time  is  ripe  for  grand 
attempts  and  grander  results.  Freedom  is 
daily  achieving  victories  for  which  but  lately 
we  scarce  dared  to  hope;  and  the  spirit  of 
Republicanism  is  rising  in  such  a  flood  that 
its  refluent  waves  are  engulfing  the  thrones 
and  tyrannies  of  the  old  world,  and  lifting  the 
oppressed  people  into  liberty  and  manhood. 

Is  not  this  place  also  inspiring?  Old  Dor 
chester  bears  a  noble  record  of  public  virtue 
and  devoted  patriotism.  In  1630,  her  founders, 
led  hither  by  their  love  of  Christian  liberty, 
having  first  by  a  fair  equivalent  obtained  a 
release  of  the  land  from  the  Indian  chief,  used 
great  efforts  to  civilize  the  neighboring  tribes 
and  convert  them  to  Christianity,  thus  laying 
the  foundations  of  her  civil  polity  in  en 
lightened  justice  and  earnest  religious  faith. 


TRIBUTES  357 

In  1652,  by  public  vote,  a  general  collection 
was  taken  up  in  the  town  for  the  maintenance 
of  Harvard  College.  In  1664,  the  town  drew 
up  a  petition  for  civil  and  religious  liberty; 
and  in  general  took  such  a  stand  in  those  early 
colonial  days  that,  in  all  civil  assemblies  and 
military  musters  she  was  allowed  the  precedence 
in  honorable  position.  Nor  did  she  discredit 
her  reputation  in  after  time.  Years  before 
the  Revolution,  the  town  voted  to  encourage 
domestic  manufactures,  and  lessen  the  use  of 
foreign  luxuries.  She  especially  prohibited  the 
use  of  tea  except  in  cases  of  sickness;  and  in 
1774  voted  to  pay  her  province  tax  into  the 
treasury  of  the  "Sons  of  Liberty,"  instead  of 
to  the  treasurer  of  the  Crown,  declaring  that 
the  attempt  of  Parliament  to  impose  upon  the 
colonies  laws  without  their  consent  was  a 
tyrannical  usurpation.  In  the  Revolution, 
having  early  voted  to  sustain  the  Continental 
Congress  if  they  should  see  fit  to  declare  an 
independency  with  Great  Britain,  Dorchester 
gave  to  the  army  one-third  of  her  men  over 
sixteen  years  of  age,  and  in  the  late  war  for  our 
national  existence,  with  a  population  of  only 
ten  thousand,  she  furnished  one  thousand  two 
hundred  and  seventy-seven  men,  which  was 
one  hundred  and  twenty-three  in  excess  of 
all  calls;  and  of  these,  one  hundred  and  twenty- 


358  TRIBUTES 

seven  became  martyrs  of  liberty,  ninety-seven 
of  them  our  own  townsmen. 

Theirs  are  the  holy  rites  of  commemoration 
that  we  celebrate  to-day.  About  their  names 
we  here  intwine  an  imperishable  wreath  of 
glory.  To  their  memories  we  consecrate  this 
monumental  shaft.  We  have  placed  it  under 
the  shadow  of  the  church,  for  theirs  was  a  sacred 
cause.  It  stands  in  view  of  the  sounding  ocean 
whose  ceaseless  beat  and  roar  shall  not  outlast 
their  fame.  We  will  also  enshrine  them  in  our 
heart  of  hearts;  and,  inspired  by  their  devotion 
to  the  country,  we  will  here  consecrate  ourselves 
anew  to  her  service. 

"The  patriot  spirit  has  not  fled; 

It  walks  in  noon's  broad  light, 
And  it  watches  the  bed  of  the  glorious  dead 

With  the  holy  stars  by  night. 
It  watches  the  bed  of  the  brave  who  have  bled, 

And  shall  guard  this  rock-bound  shore, 
Till  the  waves  of  the  bay,  in  their  mystic  play, 

Shall  break  and  foam  no  more." 


TRIBUTES  359 

II 
MEMORIAL  DAY,  1894 

ADDRESS  IN  TOWN  HALL  AT  RANDOLPH,  MASS., 
BY  REV.  CHARLES  A.  HUMPHREYS. 

FRIEND  si 
lt  is  a  pathetic  picture  that  is  presented 
to-day  of  the  swiftly  lessening  ranks  of  the 
living  marching  to  cover  with  the  flowers  of 
grateful  remembrance  the  swiftly  multiplying 
ranks  of  the  dead.  At  the  close  of  the  war, 
of  the  two  and  one-half  millions  of  soldiers 
who  had  been  mustered  in  defence  of  the 
Union,  more  than  two  millions  survived,  one- 
seventh  having  paid  with  their  lives  the 
precious  cost  of  freedom.  But  the  full  price 
had  not  yet  been  given,  nor  even  now  is  it 
all  discharged.  Each  year  sends  an  increas 
ing  number  of  our  comrades  to  join  the  silent 
dead.  The  ranks  to  which  there  can  come  no 
new  recruits  are  daily  depleted  by  fast  in 
creasing  disabilities.  The  youngest  soldier  of 
the  Union  must  now  be  long  past  the  median 
line  of  life,  and  of  the  great  leaders  of  the  war, 
only  General  Sherman  reached  the  scriptural 
span  of  threescore  years  and  ten,  and  it  has 
been  noted  that  by  those  who  endured  the 


360  TRIBUTES 

exposures  of  service  in  the  field,  the  line  of 
threescore  years  is  seldom  passed.  So  we 
cannot  help  seeing  that  the  coming  years  will 
make  still  wider  gaps  in  our  ranks.  Although 
only  two  years  ago  the  army  of  living  soldiers 
and  the  army  of  the  dead  were  exactly  balanced, 
to-day  the  dead  who  receive  our  tributes  out 
number  the  living  by  a  quarter  of  a  million, 
and  the  time  is  not  far  distant  when  the  last 
survivor  will  totter  to  the  tomb.  But  doubtless 
grateful  hearts  and  full  hands  will  still  scatter 
flowers  for  many  years  to  come.  The  remem 
brance  of  these  heroes  will  inspire  all  with 
nobler  aims  and  finer  devotions.  The  tendrils 
of  grateful  memory  stretching  from  all  hearts 
to  every  soldier's  grave  will  bind  the  living 
to  a  glad  rivalry  in  loyal  service.  So,  com 
rades,  as  to-day  we  leave  them  in  their  flower- 
besprinkled  graves,  let  us  go  forth  to  life's 
common  cares  with  a  higher  purpose. 

It  is  often  harder  to  live  truly  than  to  die 
nobly.  I  sometimes  feel  like  envying  those  who 
gave  up  their  lives  on  the  field  of  glorious  war 
and  thus  wrote  their  names  high  on  the  scroll 
of  fame  among  the  world's  immortals.  Happy 
lot!  One  short  hour  of  glorious  life  is  worth  an 
age  without  a  name.  Yes!  Harder  than  to 
give  up  life  in  one  outburst  of  enthusiastic 
devotion  is  to  give  up  health  and  drag  through 


TRIBUTES  361 

long  and  weary  years  an  enfeebled  body,  seeing 
the  prizes  of  life  grasped  by  stronger  hands, 
forced  to  yield  every  race  for  honors  to  swifter 
feet,  cherishing  still  a  soldier's  eagerness  for  the 
front  of  battle,  but  disabled  and  left  lonely 
and  useless  in  the  rear.  This  indeed  is  the 
harder  sacrifice.  Yet  let  us  make  it  cheerfully. 
Let  others  outrun  us  in  the  race  for  wealth  and 
power.  We  will  press  towards  the  mark  for  the 
prize  of  a  higher  calling,  and  as  we  once 
offered  our  lives  for  our  country's  defence,  we 
will  still  dedicate  them  to  its  advancement. 
And  when  we  consider  the  grand  march  of  our 
people  in  population,  in  prosperity  and  in 
power,  when  we  see  the  new  industrial  vigor  of 
the  Southern  States  which  were  so  crippled  in 
the  Rebellion,  when  we  behold  them  cherishing 
an  equal  patriotism  with  ourselves,  when  we 
recognize  that  each  year  adds  so  much  to  the 
value  of  the  Union,  should  we  not  be  thankful 
that  our  lives  have  been  spared,  and  that  we 
have  been  permitted  to  see  not  alone  the 
triumph  on  the  field  of  glorious  war,  of  the 
armies  to  which  it  is  our  increasing  pride  to  have 
belonged,  but  a  grander  triumph  of  reconcilia 
tion  in  the  green  pastures  and  by  the  still 
waters  of  a  prosperous  peace? 

How  like  a  vanishing  vision  seem  the  hard 
ships  and  exposures  of  the  war  through  the 


362  TRIBUTES 

dim  distance  of  thirty  years !  How  its  agonizing 
losses  have  been  transformed  into  glorious 
gains!  Memorial  Day  has  now  less  of  sad 
ness  than  gladness — gladness  in  the  possession 
of  such  heroic  memories.  I  think  it  is  a  mistake, 
after  nearly  a  generation  has  passed,  to  half- 
mast  our  flags.  They  should  rather  be  lifted  to 
the  peak  and  flung  to  the  breeze  in  joyous 
exultation  over  those  heroes, 

"Who  died  that  we  might  claim  a  soil  unstained, 
A  realm  unsevered,  and  a  race  unchained." 

We  now  recall  without  pain  but  with  a 
happy  pride  the  sacrifices  they  made.  We  do 
not  now  think  of  them  as  dead. 

"They  really  live  in  history's  deathless  page 

High  on  the  slow-wrought  pedestals  of  fame, 
Ranged  with  the  heroes  of  remoter  age; 

They  could  not  die  who  left  their  nation  free, 
Firm  as  the  rock,  unfettered  as  the  sea, 
Its  heaven  unshadowed  by  the  cloud  of  shame." 

Comrades,  though  we  are  only  the  dwindling 
rear  guard  of  the  grand  procession  of  the 
soldiers  of  the  Union  the  larger  part  of  which 
has  crossed  the  flood,  and  nearly  all  of  whose 
leaders  are  now  awaiting  us  in  the  silent  halls 
of  death,  we  will  be  proud  to  have  once  been 
their  companions.  What  a  thrill  their  names 
still  excite:  dashing  Hooker  fighting  in  the 


TRIBUTES  363 

clouds  at  Lookout  Mountain;  splendid  Hancock 
charging  with  many  a  forlorn  hope,  and 
achieving  what  seemed  impossibilities  to  less 
courageous  hearts;  heroic  McPherson  falling 
before  the  splendor  of  his  abilities  was  fully 
appreciated;  undoubting  Thomas  firm  as  a 
rock  against  the  whelming  waves  of  disaster 
at  Chickamauga  and  a  sure  salvation  for 
imperilled  Nashville;  faithful  Meade  leading 
the  patient  Army  of  the  Potomac  to  its 
hardly  won  triumph;  fiery  Sheridan  snatching 
victory  from  defeat  at  Cedar  Creek,  and  striking 
the  death-blow  of  the  Army  of  Northern 
Virginia  at  Five  Forks;  resourceful  Sherman 
cutting  the  Confederacy  in  twain  by  his  march 
to  the  sea;  and  above  all,  outshining  all  in  his 
full-orbed  glory,  persistent  Grant  pushing  all 
our  armies  slowly  but  surely  to  triumph!  What 
an  array  of  magnificent  commanders!  But 
whatever  the  grandeur  of  their  position,  they 
did  not  exceed  in  devotion  the  common  soldier 
whose  name  is  unremembered  but  who  gave  all 
he  had  to  his  country.  All  to-day  are  in  equal 
honor. 

"They  fell  devoted  but  undying; 
The  very  gale  their  praise  seems  sighing, 
The  waters  murmur  of  their  name, 
The  woods  are  peopled  with  their  fame, 
The  meanest  rill,  the  mightiest  river, 
Rolls  mingling  with  their  fame  forever." 


364  TRIBUTES 

III 
DEDICATION  OF  FLAGS 

AT  FIRST  PARISH  CHURCH  ON  MEETING  HOUSE 

HILL,  OCTOBER  15,  1916. 
ADDRESS  BY  REV.  CHARLES  A.  HUMPHREYS 

DEAR  FRIENDS:— 

I  am  asked  to  speak  to  you  on  "Our  Flag  and 
the  Spirit  of  its  Defenders." 

At  its  best  and  as  I  generally  saw  it  in  the 
Civil  War  that  spirit  was  an  utter  devotion 
with  no  thought  of  anything  but  duty,  with 
no  fear  of  anything  but  dishonor.  People 
wonder  how  a  soldier  can  dare  the  dangers  of 
battle.  He  dares  them  because  he  forgets 
himself  and  is  thinking  only  of  duty  and 
service.  He  follows  the  flag  because  it  sym 
bolizes  his  country's  safety  and  humanity's 
salvation.  He  hears  above  the  thunder  of 
artillery  and  the  hiss  of  bullets  the  voice  of 
God  calling  him  to  risk  his  life  for  truth  and 
right.  He  sees  beyond  the  flaming  mouths  of 
the  enemy's  musketry  the  hands  that  would 
dishonor  his  flag  and  destroy  his  country. 
So  of  course  he  dares  everything  and  counts 
not  his  life  dear  to  himself  if  he  can  give  it  in 


TRIBUTES  365 

defence  of  that  flag's  honor  and  that  country's 
imperilled  life. 

I  could  not  trust  myself  to  begin  to  speak  of 
the  transcendent  worth  of  the  few  who  were 
nearest  to  me,  who  grew  up  with  me  in  our 
church  school,  and  who  were  nourished  with 
me  under  the  fostering  inspiration  of  Rev. 
Nathaniel  Hall.  What  words  would  suffice  to 
tell  of  him  who  was  the  closest  companion  of 
my  school  and  college  days — Thomas  Bailey 
Fox,  my  college  chum,  the  chosen  orator  of  our 
Class  of  1860,  a  born  advocate,  who  had  before 
him  the  largest  promise  of  public  usefulness, 
whose  manly  heart  panted  after  the  champion 
ship  of  noble  causes,  but  who  laid  aside  all  these 
high  hopes  to  throw  himself  into  the  "imminent 
deadly  breach"  at  Gettysburg, — 

"And  for  guerdon  of  his  toil, 
And  pouring  out  his  life's  best  oil, 
Tasted  the  raptured  fleetness 
Of  Truth's  divine  completeness." 

Or  how  could  I  speak  of  that  highly  gifted, 
generous-hearted  schoolmate  (son  of  our  de 
voted  pastor),  Henry  Ware  Hall — who  chal 
lenged  the  admiration  even  of  his  foes  when  he 
fell,  pierced  by  eleven  bullets,  as  he  led  a 
storming  column  up  the  heights  of  Kenesaw 
Mountain, — 


366  TRIBUTES 

"And  in  warm  life-blood  wrote  a  nobler  verse" 
Than  poets  sing  or  tuneful  lips  rehearse; 
"Lived  battle-odes  whose  lines  were  steel  and  fire 
And  shaped  in  squadron  strophes  his  desire." 

Nor  can  I  speak  as  I  would  of  that  younger 
hero — Walter  Humphreys,  a  brother  dearly 
beloved — who  gave  the  rich  promise  of  his 
opening  life  to  his  country's  service,  and,  a 
private  in  the  ranks,  followed  his  regiment's 
bullet-pierced  colors  from  the  Wilderness  to 
Cold  Harbor  and  somewhere  on  that  fatal 
field  sleeps  in  an  unknown  grave. 

"Oh  for  the  touch  of  a  vanished  hand, 
And  the  sound  of  a  voice  that  is  still!" 

Ye  sad  waters  of  the  Chickahominy,  flow 
gently  where  he  lies!  Thou  sacred  soil  of 
Virginia, — how  sacred  now! — weave  above  his 
head  a  chaplet  of  perennial  green!  Ye  pines 
that  strike  your  eager  roots  into  that  holy  dust, 
wave  your  tops  in  ceaseless  worship  for  the 
glory  of  a  soul  that  leaped  transfigured  out  of 
the  gloom  of  your  shadowing  tent!  He  knew 
when  he  lifted  the  banner  of  his  country  that 
it  was  also  the  banner  of  the  Cross,  and  when 
Death  glared  upon  him  from  behind  the 
glistening  bayonets  of  the  foe,  he  did  not  fear. 
I  hold  as  sacred  a  scrap  of  paper  upon  which 


TRIBUTES  367 

he  wrote  this  last  message  to  his  old  home, — 
"  I  must  say  I  am  ready  for  the  coming  contest." 
Dear  Brother,  we  will  weep  no  more!  Your 
sacrifice  was  willing.  Soldier,  go  home;  for 
you  the  field  is  won! 

"I  with  uncovered  head 

Salute  these  sacred  dead. 
Blow  trumpets,  all  your  exultations  blow! 
For  never  shall  their  aureoled  presence  lack; 
I  see  them  muster  in  a  gleaming  row 
With  ever  youthful  brows  that  nobler  show; 
We  find  in  our  dull  road  their  shining  track, 

In  every  nobler  mood. 
We  feel  the  orient  of  their  spirit  glow, 
Part  of  our  life's  unalterable  good, 
Of  all  our  saintlier  aspiration; 

They  come  transfigured  back 
Secure  from  change  in  their  high-hearted  ways, 
Beautiful  evermore,  and  with  the  rays 
Of  morn  on  their  white  Shields  of  Expectation." 

DEAR  FRIENDS: — 

After  this  tale  of  some  of  the  sacrifices  that 
our  Civil  War  demanded  more  than  half  a 
century  ago,  and  after  witnessing  for  two  years 
the  greater  sacrifices  demanded  by  the  worst 
and  wickedest  of  all  wars,  in  which  a  military 
caste  has  attempted  to  set  might  on  the 
throne  where  justice  should  be  omnipotent,  I 
rejoice  to  have  lived  to  see  the  founding,  and 


368  TRIBUTES 

to  become  a  member,  of  a  world  League  to 
Enforce  Peace.  For  that  way  lies  the  hope  of 
humanity, 

"[When]  war-drum[s]  [shall  beat]  no  longer, 

And  [all]  battle-flags  [be]  furled 
In  the  Parliament  of  man, 

The  Federation  of  the  world." 

Then  shall  our  national  and  state  flags  be  more 
loved  than  ever,  as  they  will  be  the  symbol  of 
finer  loyalties  than  war  invokes  and  become  the 
inspiration  of  the  more  beneficent  victories  of 
peace.  And  to-day  as  they  are  lifted  before 
our  eyes  here,  let  them  hearten  us  to  fight  fear 
lessly  and  confidently  for  freedom  and  the  truth, 
because  we  know  that  behind  them  are  the 
succoring  legions  of  the  whole  Christian  army, 
and  thy  right  hand,  O  God,  and  thy  holy  arm 
that  assure  us  of  victory. 


APPENDIX 


More  intimate  glimpses  of  a  Chaplain's  life  as  revealed 
in  his  diary  and  home  letters — 1863-65. 

April  4,  '63.  Harvard  Divinity  School.  My  class 
mate  Harry  Russell,  Lieutenant  Colonel  Second  Massa 
chusetts  Cavalry  Volunteers,  having  asked  me  to  be  the 
Chaplain  of  his  regiment,  I  walked  into  Boston,  where  he 
is  recruiting  the  men,  and  told  him  that  I  would  accept 
if  the  other  officers  also  wanted  me. 

April  20,  '63.  I  went  out  to  Readville,  where  the 
Second  Massachusetts  Cavalry  is  in  training,  and  Col. 
Charles  Russell  Lowell  told  me  that  the  officers  would 
no  doubt  want  me  to  go  as  chaplain. 

May  22,  '63.  Had  a  letter  from  Col.  N.  P.  Hallowell 
of  the  Fifty-fifth  Massachusetts  Regiment  (colored),  ask 
ing  me  to  induce  John  Chadwick,  who  was  here  in  the 
Divinity  School,  to  accept  a  commission  as  Chaplain  in 
his  regiment;  but  I  did  not  succeed. 

July  4,  '63.  Gov.  John  A.  Andrew  to-day  signed  my 
commission  as  Chaplain  of  the  Second  Massachusetts 
Cavalry  Volunteers. 

July  14,  '63.  Divinity  Hall,  Cambridge.  I  was  or 
dained  in  the  chapel  here  this  morning,  George  L.  Chancy, 
John  F.  W.  Ware,  Edward  H.  Hall,  and  Dr.  Noyes  tak 
ing  part  in  the  service.  [See  pages  297-303]. 

July  19,  '63.  Sunday.  I  preached  in  my  home  church, 
giving  my  pastor — Rev.  Nathaniel  Hall — a  labor  of  love. 


370  APPENDIX 

At  the  end  of  the  service  he  made  an  ordaining  prayer — 
making  up  thus  for  his  enforced  absence  at  my  Cambridge 
ordination. 

July  28,  '63.  Sad  to  tell,  my  first  public  service  after 
my  full  ordination  as  chaplain  was  to  join  to-day  with 
Chaplain  Quint  of  the  Second  Massachusetts  Infantry 
and  Rev.  Nathaniel  Hall  in  the  funeral  service  for  my  col 
lege-chum  Capt.  Thomas  B.  Fox,  Jr.,  of  the  Second  Mas 
sachusetts  Infantry,  who  received  his  mortal  wound  at 
Gettysburg.  (See  Note  10.) 

August  19,  '63.  Bade  good-bye  to  all  at  home — joy 
shining  through  my  tears,  the  joy  of  going  to  serve  my 
country.  Took  the  5.30  steamboat  train  for  New  York. 

August  20,  '63.  Going  through  Philadelphia,  I  called 
to  see  my  classmate  William  Eliot  Furness,  but  found  that 
he  had  gone  to  the  war  in  a  colored  regiment.  Still  I  had 
a  very  pleasant  call  on  his  father.  I  was  much  surprised 
to  have  him  tell  me  that  he  had  recommended  me  to  his 
brother,  Rev.  William  H.  Furness,  as  a  colleague.  That 
may  perhaps  be  considered  when  the  country  is  safe. 
Now  the  soldiers  in  the  field  shall  have  my  best  and  my 
only  labor. 

Washington,  D.C.,  August  21,  '63.  Was  mustered  into 
the  "service  of  the  United  States  for  three  years,  unless 
sooner  discharged."  Called  at  Armory  Hospital  on  Miss 
Anna  Lowell,  sister  of  Colonel  Lowell,  and  on  Miss  Mary 
Felton,  daughter  of  President  Felton — old  Cambridge 
friends.  At  noon  I  took  the  boat  for  Alexandria  and  then 
carried  my  luggage  on  my  shoulders  three-quarters  of  a 
mile  across  the  city  to  the  cars  for  Fairfax  station.  It  was 
pretty  tough  work  under  a  hot  sun.  I  arrived  at  Fairfax 
at  3.30.  I  would  have  walked  to  my  regiment  six  miles 
away  but  that  the  country  here  is  infested  with  guerrillas. 
I  telegraphed  to  Colonel  Crowninshield  and  he  sent  an 


APPENDIX  371 

ambulance  and  a  cavalry  escort  and  I  reached  camp  at 
9  P.M. 

August  22,  '63.  Cavalry  Camp  near  Centreville.  I 
breakfasted  on  hardbread,  fried  pork,  and  water,  with 
Colonel  Lowell,  Majors  Crowninshield  and  Forbes,  and 
Lieut.  Goodwin  Stone. 

Sunday,  August  23,  '63.  Had  a  ten-minute  service  in 
each  of  the  three  wards  of  the  brigade  hospital,  and  at 
dress  parade  of  my  regiment.  Sung  in  the  evening  in 
Major  Forbes'  tent,  where  my  quarters  now  are. 

August  24,  '63.  Mosby  has  captured  a  hundred  horses 
that  were  coming  to  this  regiment,  and  Colonel  Lowell 
has  started  after  him,  and  the  camp  seems  deserted. 

August  27,  '63.  At  ten  o'clock  I  conducted  a  funeral 
service  over  John  McCarthy  of  Company  A,  who  was 
killed  in  the  skirmish  with  Mosby.  Not  only  his  com 
pany,  called  the  California  Hundred,  led  by  Capt.  J. 
Sewall  Reed,  but  also  all  the  field  and  staff  officers,  led  by 
Colonel  Lowell,  attended  the  service.  This  recognition 
of  valor  always  tells  for  good  with  the  men  and  makes  them 
more  brave  in  danger  and  more  faithful  in  every  duty. 

Alexandria,  August  28,  '63.  I  have  just  partaken  of  the 
hospitality  of  the  Sanitary  Commission  at  the  "Soldiers' 
Rest."  My  napkin  was  marked,  "U.  S.  Sanitary  Com 
mission,  Boston  Branch."  It  pleased  me  very  much  to 
share  in  Boston's  generosity  in  a  Southern  city.  I  came 
here  with  disabled  Captain  De  Merritt  of  my  regiment. 
I  am  taking  him  to  Seminary  Hospital  in  Georgetown. 
The  journey  though  only  eighteen  miles  is  quite  difficult. 
At  camp  the  Captain — with  a  wandering  brain  and  a 
broken  leg — was  put  into  an  ambulance  and  I  went  in  by 
his  side  and  was  driven  under  guard  of  six  cavalrymen  to 
Fairfax  station,  six  miles  away.  There  I  had  to  wait  one 
and  a  half  hours  for  the  train.  Then  I  put  the  Captain 


372  APPENDIX 

into  a  baggage-car  and  sat  down  beside  him  and  rode  for 
two  hours  to  Alexandria.  Here,  with  the  help  of  another 
man,  I  carried  the  Captain  on  my  shoulders  quite  a  dis 
tance  to  the  Soldiers'  Rest.  Then  after  two  hours  I  put 
the  Captain  into  another  baggage-car  and  reached  Wash 
ington  at  5  P.M.,  having  started  from  camp  at  9  A.M. 
There  was  yet  an  hour  of  waiting  till  I  could  get  an  order 
to  take  the  Captain  to  the  hospital,  and  then  another  ride 
with  him  in  an  ambulance  to  Georgetown  finished  for  me 
the  trying  day's  labor,  except  that  in  the  evening  I  wrote 
to  the  Captain's  wife  in  Sacramento,  Cal.,  and  to  his 
mother  and  sister  in  Durham,  N.H.,  telling  of  the  Captain's 
condition. 

August  29,  '63.  By  invitation  of  Rev.  James  Richard 
son — Harvard  College  1837,  Harvard  Divinity  School 
1845 — I  spent  the  night  at  his  elegant  mansion  formerly 
owned  by  Banker  Corcoran.  He  and  his  wife  accompanied 
me  to  Alexandria,  and  I  reached  camp  by  way  of  the  steam 
train  to  Fairfax  and  then  by  our  wagon  train  to  Centre- 
ville.  Mr.  Richardson  is  General  Agent  of  the  United 
States  Sanitary  Commission,  and  he  invited  me  to  make 
his  house  my  home  whenever  I  was  in  Washington. 

September  3,  '63.  I  spent  a  good  part  of  the  day  copy 
ing  muster-rolls  so  that  I  can  have  in  alphabetical  order  a 
full  list  of  the  men  of  my  regiment  and  the  company  to 
which  each  belongs  for  reference,  especially  in  distribut 
ing  the  mail.  I  have  already  recorded  about  six  companies 
and  the  address  of  the  nearest  relative  of  each  soldier. 

September  6,  '63.  Sunday.  When  I  called  this  morn 
ing  for  singers  for  the  Regimental  Service  in  the  barn, 
nineteen  soldiers  responded,  much  to  my  gratification. 
The  band — with  its  twelve  brass  instruments — can  accom 
pany  the  singing,  as  I  have  obtained  from  Ditson's  many 
of  the  scores  of  music  for  hymns. 


APPENDIX  373 

September  u,  '63.  The  Second  Massachusetts  Infan 
try  on  its  way  to  the  front  stopped  for  a  noon  rest  near 
our  camp,  and  my  classmate  Billy  Perkins  and  my  fellow- 
townsman  John  A.  Fox  dined  with  me. 

September  12,  '63.  I  was  especially  interested  to-day 
in  one  of  the  patients  in  the  hospital,  a  Frenchman  who 
had  very  early  followed  his  taste  for  art,  and  moulded 
busts  and  painted  portraits.  He  showed  me  photo 
graphs  of  his  folks  in  Paris,  and  they  seemed  very  genteel 
and  cultivated.  He  left  home  at  nineteen,  and  lived  two 
years  in  Switzerland,  and  travelled  in  Germany  and 
Italy.  Coming  to  this  country  he  enlisted  in  the  Second 
Massachusetts  Cavalry  only  three  weeks  after  his  arrival 
in  Boston.  He  took  a  great  interest  in  the  photographs 
that  I  carried  in  my  pocket.  Looking  at  my  Divinity 
School  classmate  D.  H.  Montgomery,  he  exclaimed, 
pointing  to  his  own  forehead,  "Plenty  of  brains!"  And 
his  observation  was  correct.  Looking  at  the  sisters  of  my 
Divinity  School  classmate  W.  W.  Newell,  he  threw  up 
his  hands  in  admiration — as  a  Frenchman  knows  how — 
and  shouted,  "Beautiful!  Beautiful!"  And  I  thought  so 
myself.  Coming  to  my  college  classmate  Will  Gannett, 
he  said:  "He  is  solemn.  Strong  character,"  and  no  one 
ever  doubted  that.  Coming  to  another  college  classmate, 
Harry  Scott,  he  said,  "I  have  seen  him."  Here  I  thought 
I  had  caught  him  napping,  and  I  replied,  "I  guess  not." 
But  he  was  quite  positive,  and  soon  recalled  his  name. 
He  had  seen  him  only  once,  and  that  at  Gloucester  Point, 
where  I  knew  that  he  was  accustomed  to  visit.  I  thought 
this  showed  a  peculiar  power  of  distinguishing  faces  and 
characters.  In  my  pocket  collection  I  had  a  photograph 
of  Edwin  Booth — my  great  admiration  on  the  stage — and 
the  little  Frenchman  said  at  once,  "He  is  an  actor," 
though  he  had  never  seen  him  nor  heard  of  him  before.  Of 


374  APPENDIX 

the  group  of  Longfellow  children  he  said,  "That  is  copied 
from  a  painting,"  and  it  was.  I  could  easily  believe  it 
when  he  told  that  when  he  was  a  boy  he  used  to  fre 
quently  ride  in  the  street-cars  of  Paris  just  to  study  faces 
and  characters. 

September  15,  '63.  I  was  taken  with  a  fever  last  night 
and  severe  headache.  It  was  my  tribute  to  the  climate 
here  and  perhaps  the  drinking-water  which  we  have  to  get 
from  a  brook  one-quarter  of  a  mile  away.  Adjutant 
Baldwin  took  care  of  the  mail  while  I  should  be  sick. 

September  17,  '63.  Visited  the  hospital  to-day.  Al 
most  well.  Headache  all  gone.  I  have  invited  the  men 
to  visit  me  freely  at  my  tent.  I  can  accommodate  eight 
on  a  pinch — three  or  four  on  the  bed,  three  on  the  bench, 
and  one  in  the  easy-chair. 

September  18,  '63.  Heavy  rain.  A  tempest  of  wind 
is  beating  down  a  great  many  tents  of  officers  and  men. 
I  put  on  my  rubber  suit  and  went  to  work  sinking  the  pins 
of  my  tent.  All  men  fit  for  service  left  at  2  P.M.  to  chase 
after  Mosby.  I  superintended  the  putting  up  of  Major 
Forbes'  tent,  which  is  next  to  mine. 

September  23,  '63.  I  picked  out  to-day,  from  a  lot  of 
one  hundred  and  fifty,  a  roan-colored  horse  and  paid  the 
Government  one  hundred  and  eighty-four  dollars  for  him. 

October  I,  '63.  In  Washington  to-day  I  went  to  the 
Sanitary  Commission,  and  without  money  and  without 
price  got  seventy-five  woolen  shirts  for  my  hospital 
patients.  This  Commission  is  a  very  great  blessing  to 
the  sick  soldiers. 

October  2,  '63.  Returning  from  Washington  by  train 
to  Fairfax  station,  I  found  my  horse  ready  for  me.  My 
servant  Gabriel  had  ridden  him  down  with  the  wagon 
train.  As  it  was  raining  very  hard,  I  did  not  like  to  wait 
for  the  return  of  the  wagons,  so  I  took  two  men  from  the 


APPENDIX  375 

wagon  train  guard  for  an  escort  and  started  at  once  on  a 
six-mile  gallop  through  the  mud,  which  was  from  four 
to  six  inches  deep.  It  was  a  glorious  ride  spite  of  the 
drenching  of  my  best  suit  and  the  filling  of  my  boots  with 
water. 

October  12,  '63.  Last  night  we  were  awakened  by 
shots  on  the  picket  line,  and  it  was  not  a  minute  before 
the  Headquarters  Bugler  sounded  the  call  to  arms,  which 
was  immediately  repeated  by  the  buglers  of  the  three 
regiments  of  the  brigade.  I  was  up  and  dressed  with  the 
first  call.  In  ten  minutes  all  the  men  were  in  line,  facing 
the  direction  from  which  the  shots  were  heard.  Thus 
they  remained  for  half  an  hour,  till  the  orderlies  who  had 
been  sent  out  to  find  the  cause  of  the  firing  returned  and 
reported  a  false  alarm.  Then  the  men  were  dismissed, 
with  orders  to  lie  on  their  arms  for  the  rest  of  the  night. 

October  14,  '63.  Cannonading  at  the  front  all  day. 
Orders  to  be  ready  to  move  at  a  moment's  notice. 
Meade's  army  has  fallen  back  to  Centreville,  only  a  short 
distance  from  us. 

October  16,  '63.  Have  not  unpacked  yet.  We  may 
have  to  move  at  any  time.  We  are  now  at  Vienna,  Va. 

October  18,  '63.  Great  excitement  in  camp;  every 
body  under  arms,  and  horses  saddled.  One  of  Mosby's 
men  has  been  brought  in.  It  is  Sunday,  but  I  could  have 
no  service  and  cannot  reach  the  hospital,  which  is  now  at 
Fairfax.  Last  Sunday  I  went  to  the  hospital  there,  and 
took  letters  to  the  patients,  and  spent  several  hours  with 
them.  Until  I  came  here,  Sunday  was  like  every  other 
day.  Now  there  is  a  little  change  for  the  better.  I  can 
not  hope  to  do  much,  but  I  shall  try  to  do  my  best. 

October  22,  '63.  Just  now  a  sergeant  came  to  my  tent 
and  said  hesitatingly,  "I  want  to  ask  of  you  a  favor." 
"I  shall  be  most  happy  to  do  anything,"  I  replied.  Says 


376  APPENDIX 

he:  "I  am  somewhat  acquainted  with  the  book  business. 
When  I  enlisted  I  was  in  Crosby  &  Nichols'  store.  I 
would  like  to  borrow  a  book,  if  you  please."  I  told  him 
I  would  delight  to  lend  him  any  he  liked  in  my  list,  and  he 
picked  out  "The  Minister's  Wooing"  and  one  of  Shake 
speare's  plays. 

Sunday,  November  I,  '63.  No  regimental  service  to 
day,  as  no  meeting-place  was  available.  I  went  as  usual 
to  the  hospital.  Hon.  Seth  Washburne  from  Red  Wing, 
Minn.,  was  there.  His  son,  Corp.  Luman  P.  Washburne 
of  Company  L,  had  been  wounded  October  9th  and  I  had 
notified  his  father  of  an  unfavorable  turn  in  the  Corporal's 
condition,  and  he  had  started  two  hours  after  receiving 
my  letter. 

November  2,  '63.  I  carried  some  games  to  the  hospital 
to-day,  and  the  patients  were  delighted.  I  brought  also 
a  valise  full  of  books,  and  all  were  taken. 

November  3,  '63.  The  men  for  some  time  have  come 
freely  to  my  tent,  and  I  began  to-night  to  call  on  them. 
I  began  with  Company  A. 

November  7,  '63.  At  the  request  of  my  colored  ser 
vant — Caesar  S.  Harris —  I  to-day  drew  up  a  Will  for  him, 
to  be  signed  to-morrow  with  his  mark  in  presence  of 
Maj.  William  H.  Forbes  and  Capt.  J.  Sewall  Reed.  He 
has  three  thousand  dollars  in  gold  hidden  in  the  earth 
under  a  board  (plank  No.  4)  of  the  floor  of  his  tent.  He 
has  also  the  jaundice  and  thinks  he  may  die.  He  flatters 
himself  that  the  secret  of  his  wealth  is  safe  with  me,  but 
I  have  made  no  promises.  The  first  item  in  the  Will  was — 
"I  give  and  bequeath  to  Captain  J.  Sewall  Reed,  as  a 
mark  of  my  appreciation  of  his  repeated  kindnesses  to 
me — $500.00  in  gold."  I  hope  that  the  widow  of  Captain 
Reed,  who  at  the  date  of  this  writing — February  26, 
1918 — is  still  living,  will  not  be  puffed  up  with  hopes  of 


APPENDIX  377 

a  fortune  from  this  item  of  my  black  Caesar's  Will,  but 
she  should  be  pleased  with  its  unsought  tribute  to  the 
husband  of  her  younger  life.  I  have  kept  this  Will  these 
fifty-four  years  and  more  as  a  curiosity,  and  now  smile 
at  its  legal  phraseology,  as  it  reads:  "Know  all  men  by 
these  presents  that  I,  Caesar  S.  Harris,  being  of  sound 
mind,  though  infirm  body,  do,  on  this  8th  day  of  Nov. 
1863,  declare  this  to  be  my  last  Will  and  Testament — 
to  wit!"  It  sounds  as  if  the  Chaplain  was  a  full-fledged 
graduate  of  a  law  school. 

November  8,  '63.  Colonel  Lowell  brought  his  wife  to 
camp  to-day.  She  was  Josephine  Shaw,  a  sister  of  my 
classmate  Bob  Shaw,  of  whom  I  have  already  made 
mention  in  Note  6. 

November  9,  '63.  I  put  up  my  chapel  tent  with  the 
help  of  six  men. 

Sunday,  November  15,  '63.  Could  have  no  service, 
as  the  ground  in  my  chapel  tent  was  one  puddle  of  mud 
after  last  night's  heavy  rain.  Went  to  the  hospital  as 
usual. 

November  17,  '63.  I  rode  to  Washington  under  escort 
of  Sergeant  Armstrong  and  three  of  his  men.  I  had 
letters  for  some  of  my  regiment  who  were  in  hospitals 
there.  To  find  out  where  they  were  I  went  to  the  rooms 
of  the  Sanitary  Commission,  whose  books  give  the  arrival 
and  departure  of  every  soldier  to  and  from  every  hospi 
tal  in  and  about  Washington.  Rev.  Frederic  M.  Knapp, 
Secretary  of  the  Sanitary  Commission,  invited  me  to  be 
his  guest  for  the  night.  I  slept  in  the  room  that  Presi 
dent  John  Quincy  Adams  used  to  occupy. 

November  18,  '63.  Met  my  classmate  Charley  Whit- 
tier  at  Willards.  He  is  a  major  on  General  Sedgwick's 
staff.  I  rode  back  to  camp  by  way  of  Falls  Church  with 
our  letter  carrier — McLean.  The  camp  seems  quite 


378  APPENDIX 

homelike  with  Mrs.  Lowell  here,  and  Mr.  John  M.  Forbes 
of  Milton  spending  a  few  days. 

Sunday,  November  22,  '63.  My  chapel  tent  is  thirty 
miles  away.  I  am  at  Aldie  under  the  shadow  of  Mount 
Zion  Church,  but  not  for  worship.  It  is  in  the  enemy's 
country,  and  I  have  been  with  Colonel  Lowell  on  a  scout 
to  Middleburg,  and  we  are  now  taking  our  captured 
prisoners  to  our  camp  at  Vienna. 

November  23,  '63.  Visited  all  the  wards  of  the  hospi 
tal.  Told  the  patients  of  my  experiences  yesterday  and 
of  the  success  of  our  expedition.  They  were  interested 
and  delighted. 

November  24,  '63.  My  colored  servant — Csesar — has 
recovered  from  the  jaundice,  and  my  dreams  of  wealth, 
from  the  care  of  his  fortune  that  he  intrusted  to  me  by 
his  Will,  have  vanished  in  thin  air.  Had  a  short  but  very 
pleasant  ride  with  Capt.  Francis  Washburn.  He  is  a 
brother  of  Mrs.  George  M.  Bartol  of  Lancaster,  Mass., 
and  of  Hon.  John  D.  Washburn  of  Worcester,  Mass., 
who  later  became  our  Minister  to  Switzerland.  I  have 
told  elsewhere  of  Francis  Washburn's  promotion  to  be 
Colonel  of  the  Fourth  Massachusetts  Cavalry,  after  the 
resignation  of  Col.  Arnold  A.  Rand,  and  of  his  marvellous 
daring  on  April  5  and  6,  1865,  at  High  Bridge,  where  he 
received  his  mortal  wound  and  was  brevetted  Brigadier 
General  by  special  recommendation  Jof  General  Grant, 
forwarded  to  Washington  immediately  after  the  battle, 
and  when  his  wound  was  not  thought  to  be  mortal.  He 
lived  to  reach  his  brother's  home  in  Worcester,  where  he 
died  April  22,  1865,  amid  universal  tributes  of  praise. 

"When  faith  is  strong,  and  conscience  clear, 
And  words  of  peace  the  spirit  cheer, 
And  visioned  glories  half  appear, 
'Tis  joy,  'tis  triumph,  then,  to  die." 


APPENDIX  379 

November  25,  '63.  Had  a  delightful  ride  to  Washing 
ton  alongside  Colonel  and  Mrs.  Lowell.  It  took  us  four 
hours. 

November  26,  '63.  Day  of  New  England  Thanks 
giving.  This  has  been  mine.  Before  breakfast  I  ar 
ranged  the  mail,  directing  letters  sent  here  by  mistake, 
and  franking  those  without  stamps.  After  breakfast 
I  went  to  the  hospital,  carrying  books  and  papers.  I 
bought  yesterday  in  Washington  a  Catholic  Prayer- 
book  and  a  Methodist  Hymn-book  and  I  gave  them  to 
two  patients  of  the  Sixteenth  New  York  Cavalry,  which 
with  the  Thirteenth  New  York  Cavalry  and  my  regiment 
make  Colonel  Lowell's  brigade.  I  had  the  latest  edition 
of  the  Boston  Journal  for  a  man  who  used  to  be  a  re 
porter  for  that  paper.  I  had  also  for  another  Edward 
Everett's  Oration  at  the  Consecration  of  the  Cemetery 
at  Gettysburg.  The  patients  in  one  ward  had  been 
trying  the  game  of  solitaire;  some  had  tried  it  a  hundred 
times,  they  said;  but  not  one  had  succeeded  in  jumping 
out  all  the  marbles  and  leaving  the  last  in  the  centre  of 
the  board.  I  helped  them  along  a  little  by  doing  it 
once  very  fast  so  that  they  could  catch  a  little  idea  of  it 
without  making  it  too  easy  for  them  to  get  the  whole. 
In  another  ward  I  wrote  a  letter  for  a  New  York  soldier 
sick  with  typhoid  fever,  and  the  convalescent  patients  I 
started  on  the  game  of  tivoli,  much  to  their  delight.  In 
another  ward  I  talked  half  an  hour  with  a  New  York 
patient — a  Frenchman  of  cultivation,  who  had  been  a 
teacher  of  French,  Latin,  and  Greek  in  a  New  York 
seminary.  The  conversation  was  instructive  to  me  and 
entertaining  to  him.  In  another  ward  I  left  Holmes' 
last  book  of  poems,  and  in  the  last  ward  I  left  "Ida  May" 
and  "Hiawatha,"  and  talked  half  an  hour  on  the  war, 
three  patients  from  the  Second  Massachusetts  Cavalry 


380  APPENDIX 

taking  part  in  the  conversation.  Nearly  all  the  patients 
were  in  good  spirits,  as  the  day  was  delightful,  and  all 
who  could  take  it  were  expecting  turkey  for  dinner.  So 
I  spent  three  hours  in  the  hospital  and  lost  my  own 
chance  for  dinner.  For  as  I  returned  to  camp  I  found 
the  officers  and  men — all' who  could  be  spared — starting 
out  for  a  holiday  sport  in  testing  the  speed  of  their  horses. 
Each  company  picked  out  its  best  horse  and  set  him 
against  the  rest.  Colonel  Lowell  and  wife  went  out  to 
witness  the  race,  and  also  all  the  officers  of  the  Second 
Massachusetts  who  could  be  spared  from  camp.  So, 
though  I  had  had  no  dinner  and  knew  that  I  could  have 
none  later,  I  joined  the  cavalcade  and  rode  about  two 
miles  to  Lewinsville,  where  the  race  was  held.  Of  the 
Company  horses  A  Company  beat.  Of  the  officers' 
horses  Major  Forbes'  blood  mare  beat.  The  weather 
was  perfectly  splendid — bright,  sunny,  warm,  and  clear. 

November  27,  '63.  Took  tea  and  spent  the  evening 
with  Colonel  and  Mrs.  Lowell  and  his  visitors — Mr. 
John  M.  Forbes  of  Milton  with  his  son  Malcolm.  His 
older  son,  our  Major,  William  H.  Forbes,  of  course  was 
there.  Had  a  fine  time. 

Sunday,  November  29,  '63.  At  9.45  the  bugler  sounded 
the  first  call  for  church.  At  10.30  our  Regimental  Band 
led  by  Henry  Fries — brother  of  Wulf  Fries,  the  noted 
violoncellist  of  Boston — played  a  quickstep,  and  all  the 
men  who  chose  fell  into  line  and  marched  to  the  barn  be 
hind  Colonel  Lowell's  headquarters.  About  seventy-five 
were  present.  I  preached  a  Thanksgiving  sermon  from 
the  text,  "Thanks  be  to  God,  who  giveth  us  the  victory." 
After  this  service  of  about  forty  minutes,  I  conducted 
three  shorter  services  in  the  wards  of  the  hospital. 

December  2,  '63.  I  rode  alone  to  Washington  to  call 
on  our  Captain  DeMerritt  at  St.  Elizabeth's  Hospital. 


APPENDIX  381 

Dr.  Nichols  told  me  that  he  was  cured  and  had  just  left. 
I  traced  him  to  the  Ebbitt  House,  and  was  delighted  to 
find  that  he  was  about  to  rejoin  the  regiment.  He  seemed 
perfectly  well.  I  had  taken  him  to  Washington,  August 
28th,  a  wreck  in  mind  and  body.  He  said  he  did  not 
know  how  he  could  ever  repay  me  for  my  kind  atten 
tions.  I  told  him  I  was  sufficiently  repaid  by  his  recovery, 
and  that  I  had  done  nothing  beyond  what,  as  chaplain, 
I  was  bound  to  do.  I  met  here  Bill  Lamb — Harvard 
College  1859.  He  was  the  basso-profundo  of  our  Harvard 
Glee  Club,  and  I  had  a  very  pleasant  chat  with  him. 
Then  I  went  to  the  Carver  Hospital  and  found  four  of 
our  men  and  told  them  about  their  companions  in  the 
regiment  and  took  a  good  many  messages  back  to  them 
in  the  camp.  I  met  a  private  of  the  Sixteenth  Massa 
chusetts  Infantry,  who  said  that  his  chaplain  was  Rev. 
Arthur  B.  Fuller,  and  that  he  was  splendid,  and  that  any 
of  his  men  would  have  died  for  him.  That  was  a  good 
thing  to  hear  of  an  elder  brother  in  the  Unitarian  ministry 
whom  I  had  seen  many  times  before  he  left  for  the  front 
in  1861  and  who  died  in  the  service  at  Fredericksburg, 
December  n,  1862.  While  in  Washington  I  bought  for 
my  camp  library  some  of  the  best  of  Scott's  and  Dickens' 
novels,  and  then  left  at  3 .30  P.M.  for  my  lonely  ride  through 
the  guerrilla  country,  but  fortunately  was  not  chased  as 
I  had  been  several  times  before. 

December  7,  '63.  I  have  received  already  from  home 
four  boxes  of  books  and  they  are  all  in  constant  demand 
by  officers  and  men.  Since  payday  I  have  sent  a  good 
deal  of  money  by  Adams  Express  home  for  the  men, 
and  have  kept  a  record  of  each  package  of  currency.  I 
have  distributed  many  games  in  the  hospital — checkers, 
tivoli,  solitaire,  fox-and-geese,  backgammon,  and  puzzles. 
It  has  been  so  cold  lately  that  with  the  help  of  Dearborn 


382  APPENDIX 

of  Company  A — a  carpenter  from  Maine — I  have  boarded 
up  the  sides  of  my  wall-tent,  and  on  the  back  side  made  a 
large  old-fashioned  fireplace  with  a  chimney  of  clayey 
mud  and  sticks.  Except  for  a  downward  draft  in  some 
directions  of  the  wind,  my  fireplace  is  quite  cozy  and  com 
fortable. 

December  8,  '63.  Yesterday,  the  regiment  began 
regular  drills,  and  to-day  I  joined  them  in  the  mounted 
dress  parade  and  made  a  prayer. 

Sunday,  December  13,  '63.  At  the  morning  service 
in  the  barn  Colonel  and  Mrs.  Lowell  and  officers  from  the 
Second  Massachusetts  and  Thirteenth  New  York  Cavalry 
were  present  besides  about  forty  of  the  men.  I  had  two 
services  in  the  hospital.  In  the  evening  I  had  a  good 
many  callers  at  my  tent,  among  them  Capt.  Louis  Cabot 
and  Lieut.  J.  A.  Baldwin. 

December  15,  '63.  I  began  to-day  to  make  a  catalogue 
of  my  books  so  as  to  check  them  when  loaned.  At  5  P.M. 
I  conducted  funeral  services  over  two  New  York  cavalry 
men.  In  the  evening  Maj.  William  H.  Forbes,  Capt.  J. 
Sewall  Reed,  Lieut.  Goodwin  Stone,  and  I  sung  in  my 
tent  for  half  an  hour,  when  Dr.  Oscar  C.  DeWolfe  came 
in  and  we  had  some  hot  chocolate  together. 

December  19,  '63.  All  who  could  be  spared  from 
camp  are  out  on  a  chase  after  Stuart.  I  could  not  go 
because  of  a  funeral  service  for  Sergeant  Bishop.  I  am 
the  only  officer  left  of  the  Field  and  Staff.  I  spent  the 
evening  with  Mrs.  Lowell. 

December  24,  '63.  I  went  out  to-day  a  mile  and  a  half 
beyond  our  picket  line  to  marry  two  Rebs  at  the  bride's 
house.  Last  Thursday  a  young  man,  born  in  New  York, 
but  a  year's  resident  of  Virginia,  came  to  my  tent  and  made 
the  request.  I  feared  it  might  be  a  trap  to  let  the  guer 
rillas  catch  me.  So  I  asked  Colonel  Lowell  if  it  was 


APPENDIX  383 

safe.  He  said,  "Perfectly,"  but  that  I  might  have  an  es 
cort  if  I  wished.  So  I  promised  to  go.  I  set  to  work  at 
once  to  prepare  a  service,  as  I  had  never  performed  the 
ceremony.  I  had  among  my  books  the  King's  Chapel  ser 
vice,  and  with  that  as  a  model  I  prepared  a  very  solemn 
service  that  would  make  the  parties  hesitate  to  take  the 
vows  if  there  was  any  infidelity  in  the  matter.  This  I 
thought  especially  necessary,  as  I  did  not  know  them  and 
there  were  no  courts  here  to  receive  promises  of  marriage. 
I  started  at  3.30  P.M.  with  a  guard  of  three  mounted  men 
of  my  regiment  with  their  sabres,  pistols,  and  carbines.  A 
pleasant  ride  of  two  miles  brought  us  to  the  home  of  the 
bride — an  old-fashioned  two-story  house,  for  long  years 
undisturbed  by  paint,  and  seriously  crippled  by  age.  I 
stationed  my  guard  on  two  sides  of  the  house,  with  orders 
to  give  the  alarm  on  the  approach  of  any  guerrillas,  and,  if 
they  came  in  large  numbers,  not  to  regard  me  but  by  all 
means  to  save  my  horse.  A  young  man,  some  relative  of 
the  family  I  suppose,  met  me  at  the  gate  and  invited  me  in. 
Having  got  me  inside  the  door,  he  seemed  to  think  that  his 
part  of  the  programme  was  finished,  for  he  seated  himself 
without  introducing  me  to  any  of  the  family.  So  I  bowed 
reverently  to  an  old  man  in  the  corner,  and  dutifully  to  an 
old  lady  at  his  side,  whom  I  took  to  be  his  wife,  and  famil 
iarly  to  the  young  bridegroom,  whom  I  had  seen  at  camp, 
and  as  gracefully  as  I  knew  how  to  a  young  lady  at  his 
side,  whom  I  took  to  be  the  bride.  Some  of  them  may  have 
responded  to  my  salutation,  but  there  was  no  evidence  of 
it,  as  I  heard  nothing  and  none  of  them  rose.  It  seemed 
as  if  they  were  all  pinned  to  their  chairs.  Then,  without 
any  invitation,  I  sat  down  in  the  only  vacant  chair,  and 
asked  sundry  questions  about  the  family,  which  were 
answered  in  the  briefest  possible  way,  generally  by  a  yes 
or  a  no  or  a  nod.  Then  I  rose  and,  with  a  please,  asked  the 


384  APPENDIX 

bride  and  bridegroom  to  stand.  When  I  came  in  the 
ceremony  to  say  to  the  bridegroom,  "Wilt  thou,"  et  cetera, 
he  shook  his  head,  but  whether  up  and  down  or  sideways 
I  would  scarcely  dare  to  swear  in  a  court  of  law.  So  I 
told  him  to  say,  "I  will."  The  bride  was  more  ready  to 
respond,  and  said  "I  will"  as  if  she  meant  it.  I  thought  it 
out  of  the  question  to  ask  if  they  would  signify  their 
union  by  giving  and  receiving  a  ring.  I  saw  no  jewelry 
of  any  kind,  and  I  did  not  wish  to  embarrass  them.  Even 
during  the  prayer  none  of  the  company  arose,  nor  when 
I  pronounced  the  benediction.  After  this  I  approached 
the  bride  to  salute  her  and  went  more  than  half-way,  but 
as  she  did  not  move,  nor  seemed  very  accessible,  I  only 
gave  her  my  congratulations  with  a  shake  of  the  hand,  and 
likewise  my  good  wishes  to  the  bridegroom,  and  then  found 
my  way  out  without  any  showing,  and  mounted  my  horse 
and  galloped  back  to  camp.  A  quieter  wedding  could 
hardly  be  imagined.  It  marked  the  impoverishment  of 
the  country,  that  there  were  no  neighbors  to  join  in  the 
celebration,  no  flowers  to  adorn  the  bride,  no  ring  to 
pledge  in  marriage,  no  cake  to  give  the  guests.  Yet  the 
family  was  respectable  and  would  have  been  well-off  but 
for  the  war.  Virginia  is  paying  a  terrible  price  for  her 
secession. 

December  25,  '63.  Christmas  Day — Friday.  In  token 
of  the  festival  I  got  the  band  to  play  for  the  patients  in  the 
hospital.  Dr.  DeWolfe  invited  Colonel  Lowell  and  my 
self  to  dine  with  him.  A  half-dozen  callers  filled  up  my 
evening. 

December  27,  '63,  Sunday.  I  preached  a  sermon  ap 
propriate  to  the  Christmas  season,  and  held  three  shorter 
services  in  the  hospital.  In  the  evening,  in  my  tent,  I 
opened  my  Christmas  box  from  home,  with  the  help  of 
Major  Forbes  and  Lieutenant  Dabney. 


APPENDIX  385 

January  I,  '64.  I  visited  the  hospital  and  wished  all  a 
Happy  New  Year. 

January  3,  '64,  Sunday.  This  is  the  coldest  day  known 
here  for  seven  years.  It  nearly  froze  me  in  my  bed  last 
night  and  came  nearer  freezing  some  of  our  men  on  picket. 
The  church  call  sounded  as  usual,  but  only  eight  men  came. 
The  band  could  not  play  because  of  sore  lips.  I  read  a 
few  verses  from  Scripture  and  offered  prayer.  Then  we 
sung  a  hymn  and  I  gave  the  benediction.  I  went  down 
to  the  hospital  to  hold  services,  but  the  patients  detained 
me  so  long  in  talking  with  them  individually  that  I  had 
no  time  for  a  formal  address.  I  think  I  did  them  more 
good  by  my  sympathy  than  I  could  have  done  by  my 
exhortations. 

January  8,  '64.  The  Chaplain's  quarterly  report  on 
conditions  in  the  Regiment: — 

CAVALRY  CAMP 
VIENNA  VA.  Jan.  8th  '64 
To  C.  CROWNINSHIELD 

MAJOR  COMMANDING  2D  MASS.  Cav. 

I  have  the  honor  to  submit  the  following  report  of  the 
moral  and  religious  condition  of  the  regiment  as  observed 
in  the  quarter  ending  Jan.  1st,  64,  and  further  in  accord 
ance  with  "Revised  Regulations,"  I  respectfully  offer 
certain  suggestions  for  the  social  happiness  and  moral 
improvement  of  the  troops. 

As  to  the  religious  condition  of  the  regiment,  I  cannot 
speak  with  any  certainty.  True  religion  is  never  de 
monstrative,  and  it  would  need  an  acquaintance  of  years 
to  know  to  what  extent  each  man  recognized  his  relations 
to  God,  and  his  obligations  to  obey  God's  laws.  These 
things  constitute  religion,  and  they  cannot  be  measured 
by  words  or  tabulated  by  figures.  Still  while  I  cannot 
speak  with  certainty  of  whatever  true  religious  feeling  and 


386  APPENDIX 

principle  there  may  be  in  the  regiment,  it  is  easy  to  ex 
pose  habits  and  practices  that  must  inevitably,  if  un 
checked,  undermine  all  religious  feeling  and  weaken  all 
religious  principle.  Most  prominent  among  these  is  the 
habit  of  profanity,  by  which  I  mean  only  the  taking  of 
the  name  of  God  lightly  and  thoughtlessly  upon  the  lips. 
This  thoughtless  familiarity  with  the  name  of  the  Deity  is 
sure  to  breed  contempt  for  his  rightful  authority  over  the 
actions  of  men. 

Those  who  take  his  name  lightly  upon  their  lips  cannot 
have  his  law  an  abiding  influence  in  their  lives,  and  those 
who  habitually  take  his  name  in  vain,  will  surely,  though 
perhaps  insensibly,  lose  all  reverence  for  his  sacred  char 
acter,  and  his  solemn  commands;  and  this  reverence  for 
God's  character  and  law  is  the  foundation  of  all  religion, 
and  the  only  sure  guide  to  a  true  life.  For  these  reasons 
I  can  suggest  nothing  that  will  more  conduce  to  the 
religious  improvement  of  the  regiment,  than  absolutely 
to  forbid  all  open  profanity,  and  to  charge  all  commissioned 
and  non-commissioned  officers  with  the  execution  of  the 
order,  for  all  profanity  is  an  infringement  of  military 
rule,  as  well  as  a  violation  of  the  laws  of  God.  The  ex 
tent  to  which  profanity  has  become  a  habit  both  among 
officers  and  men  is  really  appalling.  I  cannot  pass  down 
any  company  street  without  hearing  the  name  of  God 
either  taken  lightly  in  sport  or  irreverently  in  a  curse.  I 
cannot  even  sit  long  in  my  tent  without  hearing  loudly 
shouted  some  imprecation  with  the  name  of  God  thought 
lessly  added.  Men  imprecate  curses  upon  their  horses  in 
the  name  of  God,  and  so  loudly  that  all  in  the  neighbor 
hood  can  hear,  and  yet  I  have  never  but  in  one  instance 
seen  it  rebuked.  Officers  in  the  same  way  imprecate 
curses  on  their  servants,  and  sometimes  upon  their  men. 
Oftenest,  however,  the  name  of  God  is  taken  lightly  in  a 


APPENDIX  387 

sportive  jest.  I  do  not  speak  of  these  things  in  any  way 
because  they  grate  harshly  on  my  own  ear,  but  wholly 
because  of  their  influence  upon  those  who  practice  them. 
Regard  or  respect  for  my  office — I  gladly  give  this  tribute 
— restrain  profanity  in  my  presence;  I  would  that  regard 
for  God  would  restrain  it  everywhere.  But  as  this 
cannot  be  relied  upon  as  a  sufficient  restraint,  it  seems 
necessary  to  enforce  strict  military  rule  to  that  effect. 

Besides  the  profanity  of  trifling  with  God's  name,  there 
is  also  the  profanity  of  trifling  with  God's  judgments  by 
curses  and  execrations.  This  habit  is  as  open  and  com 
mon  as  the  other.  Men  call  down  the  wrath  of  heaven 
and  imprecate  the  pains  of  hell  upon  their  horses  or  upon 
one  another  as  thoughtlessly  as  they  would  say  "Good 
morning!"  To  curse  in  jest  is  sacrilege,  to  curse  in  earnest 
is  blasphemy.  Both  are  violations  of  military  as  well  as 
divine  law,  and  officers  should  be  charged  with  their 
suppression.  While  we  believe  in  God's  approval  of 
our  cause,  and  pray  for  his  help,  let  us  not  trifle  with  his 
judgments,  not  take  his  name  in  vain. 

Another  obstacle  to  the  moral  and  religious  improve 
ment  of  the  regiment  is  the  slight  attendance  upon  church 
service.  I  speak  of  this  with  great  diffidence  as  I  am 
conscious  of  great  weakness  in  conducting  public  religious 
service.  I  have  not  years  to  give  authority  to  my  in 
structions,  nor  experience  to  give  weight  to  my  teachings, 
nor  eloquence  to  make  them  attractive.  Still  I  do  my 
best,  and  such  service  is  almost  the  only  means  I  have  to 
call  the  attention  of  the  officers  and  men  to  their  religious 
obligations  and  sacred  duties.  The  men  have  attended 
as  regularly  and  in  as  large  numbers  as  could  be  expected 
while  their  duties  were  heavy,  and  their  officers  gave  them 
little  encouragement  by  their  example.  The  former 
cause  is  a  necessity  of  the  service,  the  latter  is  in  contra- 


388  APPENDIX 

vention  of  the  direct  recommendation  of  the  Articles  of 
War.  I  did  not  wish  to  accept  your  offer  to  require  at 
tendance  upon  church  service,  but  would  be  glad  if  you 
would  strongly  recommend  such  attendance  by  officers  and 
men. 

As  to  the  moral  condition  of  the  regiment,  it  is  good 
while  the  temptations  to  immorality  are  withdrawn. 
Men  cannot  gamble  after  they  have  exhausted  their  own 
money,  and  that  of  those  who  are  cajoled  into  lending  to 
them,  nor  will  they  get  intoxicated  when  the  whiskey  is 
out  of  their  reach.  Still  there  is  more  gambling  and 
intoxication  than  there  should  be  or  need  be.  I  respect 
fully  suggest  that  you  advise  Company  commanders  to 
recommend  to  their  men  as  they  have  opportunity 
to  send  their  money  home  or  put  it  on  deposit.  This  to 
restrain  gambling.  I  also  suggest — as  a  preventive  of  in 
toxication — that  you  recommend  to  officers  never  to 
give  an  order  for  whiskey,  unless  they  feel  sure  that  it 
will  not  be  abused.  I  am  sorry  to  have  to  report  in  this 
connection  that  I  have  seen  even  one  officer  intoxicated  in 
camp,  and  have  heard  in  ways  that  compelled  me  to 
believe  the  truth  of  the  statement,  that  another  officer 
has  been  intoxicated  when  on  duty.  While  I  am  proud 
of  the  general  character  and  bearing  of  the  officers,  it  is 
sad  to  record  even  a  single  instance  of  such  loss  of  self- 
respect. 

In  conclusion  I  beg  leave  to  report  in  general  that  there 
seems  to  be  a  better  tone  of  feeling  in  the  regiment  now 
than  in  the  early  part  of  the  quarter.  Many  who  then 
tried  to  get  into  some  other  organization  have  since 
confessed  that  it  was  a  most  foolish  movement,  while  the 
rest  have  settled  down  into  a  resigned  content.  There  is 
less  complaint  of  duty  and  discipline,  though  I  suppose 
that  neither  of  them  has  been  relaxed.  The  sharing 


APPENDIX  389 

together  of  dangers  and  service  is  daily  giving  more  har 
mony  and  unity  to  the  regiment.  While  we  are  in  winter- 
quarters  the  men  need  not  find  time  lie  heavily  on  their 
hands,  as  I  can  supply  all  that  wish  it  with  entertaining 
reading.  The  hospital  is  in  very  good  condition,  and 
our  sick  and  wounded  are  in  general  cheerful  and  con 
tented. 

I  close  with  the  hope  that  in  another  quarter  I  may  be 
more  faithful  to  my  duties  and  more  successful  in  my 
work,  and  that  the  regiment  may  go  on  improving  morally 
and  spiritually  till  we  all  become  true  soldiers  "without 
fear  and  without  reproach." 

All  of  which  is  respectfully  submitted 

C.  A.  HUMPHREYS 
Chaplain  2d  Mass.  Cav. 

January  13,  '64.  I  distributed  to-day  five  knit  caps 
among  the  officers  and  forty  pairs  of  cavalry  mittens 
among  the  men. 

January  14,  '64.  While  taking  my  usual  exercise  this 
afternoon  riding  horseback,  I  met — as  frequently  of  late 
— Colonel  and  Mrs.  Lowell,  out  for  the  same  purpose, 
and  I  joined  them  for  the  rest  of  the  ride. 

January  20,  '64.  I  rode  with  Mrs.  Lowell  this  morn 
ing  to  witness  the  brigade  drill.  It  was  an  imposing 
sight. 

January  23,  '64.  The  band  played  this  evening  before 
Colonel  Lowell's  headquarters,  and  on  their  return  vol 
unteered  one  tune  before  my  tent. 

January  30,  '64.  At  the  hospital,  by  the  death-bed  of 
a  New  York  cavalryman,  Mrs.  Colonel  Lowell  and  I 
held  a  little  service,  helping  to  make  less  lonely  for  him 
the  passing  over.  This  month  has  seen  many  changes  in 


390  APPENDIX 

our  officers.  We  had  as  good  a  set  as  ever  led  a  regi 
ment,  and  that  is  the  reason  they  are  leaving  for  pro 
motion.  We  have  given  six  lieutenants,  two  captains, 
two  majors  and  one  surgeon  to  the  Fifth  Massachusetts 
Cavalry  (colored),  besides  supplying  it  with  a  colonel — 
Harry  Russell,  who  was  chiefly  instrumental  in  putting 
me  here.  We  have  also  given  a  lieutenant  colonel — 
Francis  Washburn — and  senior  major — Louis  Cabot — 
to  the  Fourth  Massachusetts  Cavalry.  We  also  supplied 
one  captain  to  the  Twenty-fifth  New  York  Cavalry. 
Their  places  are  supplied  by  promotions  from  the  ranks. 

February  4,  '64.  One  of  the  patients  at  the  hospital, 
who  fought  so  furiously  in  an  engagement,  and  with  his 
sabre  pierced  his  Rebel  adversary  three  times  and  then 
received  a  shot  himself,  is  now  well  and  returned  to  duty 
to-day.  Another  patient,  who  was  shot  through  the 
breast  by  a  guerrilla,  has  recovered,  and  is  now  walking 
round.  It  is  strange  to  see  men  recover  after  such 
dreadful  wounds. 

February  6,  '64.  A  deserter  from  E  Company  was 
brought  in  to-day.  He  had  left  us  only  two  weeks 
before  and  was  caught  in  the  act  of  charging  upon  our 
men  with  a  body  of  guerrillas  whom  he  was  leading.  But 
they  deserted  him  as  soon  as  they  saw  that  our  party 
was  nearly  as  large  as  theirs,  and  then  he  tried  to  escape. 
A  sergeant  of  his  own  company  pursued  him,  and  the 
deserter  turned  in  his  saddle  and  fired  several  shots  at 
the  sergeant.  A  ditch  happened  to  be  in  the  way  of  the 
deserter's  flight,  and  in  the  attempt  to  jump  it  his  horse 
came  short  and  fell  into  it.  The  deserter  then  tried  to 
run  away,  but  the  sergeant  was  too  quick  for  him,  and, 
though  he  had  exhausted  all  his  shots,  he  held  his  empty 
pistol  to  the  face  of  the  deserter  and  made  him  surrender. 
He  had  on  a  Rebel  uniform  and  had  fired  at  his  former 


APPENDIX  391 

Sergeant  every  charge  that  he  had  in  his  pistol.  His 
weapons  were  all  taken  away,  his  arms  tied  behind  his 
back,  and  his  feet  tied  to  the  saddle  girth,  and  thus  he 
was  brought  in,  reaching  camp  about  3  P.M.  A  drumhead 
court-martial  was  at  once  ordered,  Lieutenant  Dabney 
acted  as  judge  advocate,  and  at  the  request  of  the  de 
serter  I  acted  as  his  counsel.  After  sitting  about  two 
hours  the  court  sealed  its  judgment  and  adjourned.  I 
did  not  know  the  sentence  till  after  breakfast  Sunday 
morning.  Then  Colonel  Lowell  sent  for  me  and  told  the 
deserter's  doom.  I  went  immediately  to  the  guard-house 
and  the  deserter  requested  to  see  me  alone.  So  the  guard 
stationed  themselves  outside.  His  first  question  was, 
"Well,  Chaplain,  what  are  they  going  to  do  with  me?" 
I  said,  "They  are  going  to  shoot  you  at  eleven  o'clock." 
He  was  thankful,  he  said,  that  they  did  not  sentence  him 
to  be  hanged.  (The  execution  of  the  sentence  is  described 
in  the  main  text  of  this  book,  pages  19-22.) 

Sunday,  February  14,  '64.  I  offered  prayer  at  dress 
parade  this  morning  and  appeared  at  inspection.  Had 
three  services  in  the  hospital  about  noon.  Had  regi 
mental  service  at  2.30  P.M. 

February  17.  '64.  Miss  Nellie  Shaw  came  to  camp  to 
visit  her  sister,  Mrs.  Colonel  Lowell.  She  brought  some 
jew's-harps  for  the  men  in  the  hospital  and  they  were 
much  appreciated. 

February  19,  '64.  Took  tea  at  Colonel  and  Mrs. 
Lowell's  with  Miss  Nellie  Shaw.  She  is  charming. 

February  21,  '64.  Sunday.  Church  call  as  usual  at 
10.30.  Although  four  companies  were  away  or  on  duty, 
a  larger  audience  than  usual  gathered  at  the  barn,  among 
them  Colonel  and  Mrs.  Lowell  and  Miss  Shaw. 

February  22,  '64.  To  celebrate  Washington's  Birth 
day  and  at  the  same  time  give  pleasure  to  the  patients 


392  APPENDIX 

in  the  hospital  I  had  the  band  play  for  them  this  morn 
ing,  and  I  went  'through  the  wards  as  usual.  In  the 
afternoon  the  regiment  had  some  field  sports  till  5  P.M. 
At  5.30  news  came  that  Capt.  J.  Sewall  Reed's  scouting 
detachment  of  one  hundred  and  twenty-five  men  had  been 
ambushed  and  badly  cut  up  by  Mosby.  In  twenty 
minutes  we  started  to  their  relief  with  two  hundred  men. 
We  went  two  miles  beyond  Drainesville  and  found  that 
Captain  Reed  and  eight  men  had  been  killed,  and 
eight  lay  wounded  on  the  field,  while  Capt.  George  A. 
Manning  and  Lieut.  William  C.  Manning  and  fifty-five 
men  were  taken  prisoners.  To  the  surgeon  and  myself 
was  left  the  care  of  the  wounded  and  the  dead.  The 
latter  we  placed  in  a  large  open  wagon,  and  the 
wounded  in  such  other  vehicles  as  we  could  find  in  the 
vicinity.  We  dared  not  take  two  who  seemed  to  be 
dying  but  who  might  possibly  revive  if  unmoved.  We 
worked  hard  all  night.  Some  of  the  wounded  had 
broken  legs,  and  screamed  with  agony  as  we  lifted  them 
into  the  wagons.  These  farm  wagons  were  without 
springs,  and  as  we  wended  our  way  home  over  the 
rough  roads  the  cries  of  the  wounded  were  excruciating. 
One  of  them  died  before  we  arrived  in  camp,  which  was 
about  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning.  I  came  in  a  little 
ahead  of  the  column  to  break  the  news  of  Captain  Reed's 
death  to  his  wife,  who  had  come  to  visit  him.  She  knew 
better  than  I  did  that  he  was  a  man  without  reproach, 
but  I  could  tell  her  that  he  was  a  soldier  without  fear, 
and  faithful  to  every  duty,  and  much  loved  by  his  men. 
Later  in  the  day  I  took  the  body  to  Washington,  to 
be  prepared  for  its  long  journey  to  Massachusetts, 
and  the  next  day,  after  celebrating,  in  presence  of  the 
whole  regiment,  the  funeral  rites  due  to  the  others  whom 
we  brought  in  from  Drainesville,  I  accompanied  Mrs. 


APPENDIX  393 

Reed  to  her  home  in  Dorchester,  where  the  funeral  of 
her  husband  was  held.  Captain  Reed  had  been  one  of 
our  camp  quartette,  and  it  was  more  than  a  month  before 
we  had  the  heart  to  sing  again.  Then  one  of  his  best 
friends — Lieut.  Josiah  A.  Baldwin — took  his  place  with 
us,  and  camp  began  to  assume  again  something  of  an 
aspect  of  cheerfulness.  Meanwhile  the  music  of  the  band 
had  been  a  comfort,  as  it  played  every  night  at  sunset 
and  sometimes  later  in  the  evening.  The  disaster  at 
Drainesville  brought  not  only  to  the  whole  camp  this 
long  month  of  depression  in  spirit,  but  to  me  a  marked 
depression  also  of  vitality.  Its  three  days  and  nights 
of  exhausting  labors  took  away  from  me  ten  of  the  fifteen 
pounds  of  added  weight  which  I  had  gained  in  the  three 
previous  months  after  I  had  become  acclimated  to  camp 
life.  While  I  was  in  Dorchester  a  lady  from  Watertown 
came  to  me  and  inquired  very  anxiously  about  her  son, 
who  was  in  my  regiment.  I  told  her  that  when  I  left 
camp  he  was  perfectly  well.  At  that  moment  he  was 
very  sick  in  the  camp  hospital,  and  when  I  returned  he 
was  dead  and  buried.  I  appreciated  what  a  terrible 
blow  that  would  be  to  his  mother;  so  I  sought  out  every 
comforting  thought  and  every  pleasant  reminiscence,  and 
arranged  to  have  the  body  sent  home,  and  then  wrote 
to  her  as  best  I  could.  At  such  times  one  learns  to  be 
thankful  for  his  faith  in  the  care  and  love  of  the  Father 
in  Heaven. 

Sunday  morning,  April  10,  '64.  Captain  Phillips  of 
our  regiment  brought  in  ten  prisoners.  He  had  been 
out  less  than  twenty-four  hours,  and  yet  had  gone  twenty- 
five  miles  to  Aldie  and  taken  these  Confederates  from 
their  beds.  Some  of  them  had  been  engaged  in  the  fight 
at  Drainesville.  Their  capture  caused  us  a  good  deal  of 
satisfaction.  This  was  the  New  England  Fast  Day,  and 


394  APPENDIX 

I  made  my  service  appropriate  to  the  occasion,  taking 
my  text  from  Isaiah  Iviii.  6,  "Is  not  this  the  fast  that  I 
have  chosen?"  I  chose  as  the  voluntary,  the  Prayer 
from  "Der  Freischutz,"  which  was  beautifully  rendered 
by  the  band.  My  prayer  followed,  taking  its  suggestion 
from  the  sweet  harmony  of  the  great  composer,  and 
expressing  the  deep  desire  of  the  soul  to  be  in  harmony 
with  God.  In  my  address  I  spoke  first  of  the  duties  we 
owe  to  ourselves  of  self-examination  and  spiritual  improve 
ment,  and  second  of  the  duties  we  owe  to  humanity  in 
this  crisis  of  the  nation's  history.  Nearly  all  the  officers 
were  present,  with  Colonel  and  Mrs.  Lowell,  and  many 
of  the  men.  After  the  service  I  went  down  to  the  hospital 
and  went  through  the  wards,  speaking  a  word  to  each 
patient,  and  then  held  a  service  in  Ward  2.  I  delighted 
two  men  that  day  at  least.  One  was  a  Frenchman,  the 
other  an  Italian;  and  I  gave  each  a  Testament  in  his  own 
language,  as  neither  of  them  could  read  English.  I  had 
sent  to  New  York  for  these  books. 

April  II,  '64.  At  II  A.M.  I  married  C.  Mason  Kinne 
and  Lizzie  K.  D'Arcey.  Kinne  is  our  Adjutant,  as  popu 
lar  a  man  as  there  is  in  the  whole  brigade.  So  the  interest 
was  very  great.  He  had  heard  through  another  of  our 
officers  of  an  attractive  young  lady — a  friend  of  that 
officer's  wife — and  had  started  a  correspondence  with  her 
about  three  months  ago.  About  six  weeks  ago  the  wife 
and  her  friend  came  to  Washington  and  then  to  camp, 
and  have  been  here  since;  and  the  Adjutant  has  seen  no 
reason  to  regret  his  chance  correspondence,  and  asked 
me  to  marry  them.  So  last  Saturday  I  went  to  see  the 
young  lady  and  made  her  acquainted  with  the  form  of 
marriage  that  I  should  use.  She  said  she  had  a  very 
strong  sense  of  the  ludicrous,  and  she  was  afraid  that  some 
little  accident  of  word,  or  some  humorous  aspect  of  the 


APPENDIX  395 

unusual  surroundings,  would  make  her  laugh.  I  assured 
her  that  there  was  no  reason  for  her  to  fear,  and  that  the 
solemnity  of  the  service  and  the  deep  significance  of  the 
vows  would  overbalance  all  inclination  to  lightness. 
They  were  married  in  a  house  just  outside  the  camp,  and 
all  the  officers  of  the  regiment  were  present  who  could  be 
spared  from  duty.  They  little  thought  of  the  sacred 
nature  of  the  occasion,  and  were  quite  merry  before  the 
couple  appeared.  I  first  addressed  the  gathered  friends, 
declaring  that  matrimony  was  "an  honorable  estate 
instituted  by  God  and  approved  by  what  is  highest  and 
best  in  man,  and  forasmuch  as  it  should  not  be  entered 
into  lightly  or  unadvisedly,  but  reverently,  discreetly, 
and  soberly,"  I  charged  them,  if  any  one  knew  "cause  or 
just  impediment  why  these  two  persons  should  not  be 
united  in  matrimony,"  he  should  then  declare  it.  No 
one  protesting  the  banns,  I  then  addressed  the  couple, 
and  adjured  them  by  every  solemn  obligation  to  confess 
if  they  knew  any  reason  why  they  might  not  lawfully  be 
joined  in  marriage.  The  bride  had  by  this  time  forgotten 
all  thoughts  of  the  ludicrous,  and  the  deep  solemnity  of 
the  situation  started  the  fountains  of  her  tears.  Then 
I  put  to  them  the  usual  questions  answered  by  "I  will," 
and  said,  "You  will  now  declare  your  plighted  love  by 
giving  and  receiving  a  ring,"  and  while  he  held  it  on  her 
finger  he  repeated  after  me,  "With  this  ring  I  thee  wed, 
and  to  thee  only  do  I  promise  to  keep  myself  so  long  as 
we  both  shall  live."  Then  she  repeated  after  me,  "This 
ring  I  take  in  pledge,  and  to  thee  only  do  I  promise  to 
keep  myself  so  long  as  we  both  shall  live."  Then  I 
declared  them  "husband  and  wife,"  and  offered  prayer, 
and  called  down  upon  them  the  benediction  of  heaven. 
The  service  thus  closed,  I  congratulated  them  and  wished 
them  all  possible  happiness.  Till  this  moment  the  bride- 


APPENDIX 

groom  had  kept  a  firm  countenance,  but  now  he  too 
burst  into  tears,  and  even  among  the  officers  looking  on 
there  was  scarcely  a  dry  eye.  Still,  solemnity  is  not  in 
consistent  with  joy.  The  tears  of  the  bridal  couple  were 
the  overbrimming  of  their  cup  of  happiness,  and  the 
officers  wept  in  happy  sympathy,  and  wondered  if  such 
joy  would  ever  be  their  own.  Military  etiquette  holds 
even  at  weddings,  and  Colonel  Crowninshield  was  the 
first  of  the  officers  to  step  up  and  congratulate  the  couple, 
and  he  saluted  the  bride  in  such  a  brave,  blunt  way  that 
everybody  smiled,  and  the  other  officers  took  courage 
and  felt  that  they  could  do  as  the  Colonel  did.  It  was  a 
soldier's  freedom,  and  several  who  had  never  spoken  to 
her  took  the  liberty  of  a  kiss.  All  agreed  that  this  was 
the  nicest  wedding  they  had  ever  seen.  The  Adjutant 
has  a  pass  for  two  or  three  days  to  make  a  bridal  tour 
to  Washington — rather  a  strange  one,  in  box  cars  along 
with  prisoners  and  contrabands,  but  it  will  do  for  war 
times,  and  it  made  little  difference  to  the  newly  wedded 
in  their  happy  absorption  in  each  other.  As  I  am  copy 
ing  this  description  of  the  wedding  from  a  home  letter 
written  in  the  afternoon  of  the  day  of  the  ceremony,  April 
II,  1864,  and  this  is  March 7,  1918, 1  will  now  add  that  this 
marriage  proved  to  be  one  of  the  happiest  that  I  ever 
knew.  The  bride  of  that  day,  four  years  ago  made  a 
widow,  found  the  chief  comfort  of  these  later  years  in  the 
happy  memories  of  her  wedded  life.  She  sent  me  from 
the  home  of  her  daughter  in  Berkeley,  Cal.,  a  card  of 
Christmas  remembrance,  December  25,  1917,  and  on 
January  7,  1918,  passed  on  herself,  leaving  behind  her 
two  daughters  and  six  grandchildren. 

April  13,  '64.  I  rode  to  Washington  and  carried  a 
pistol  for  the  first  time  to  defend  myself  from  guerrillas. 
Saw  Miss  Anna  Lowell  at  Amory  Square  Hospital  in 


APPENDIX  397 

Ward  K  and  arranged  for  her  to  receive  my  Camp  Library, 
as  the  spring  campaign  is  soon  to  open,  and  I  must  be 
ready  to  move  at  the  shortest  notice.  After  receiving  the 
box  she  sent  me  this  response: — 

My  dear  Mr,  Humphreys, — The  box  of  books  was  very 
welcome,  and  I  wish  you  could  have  seen  the  eagerness 
with  which  my  men  took  them  out  when  the  box  was 
opened.  I  never  happened  to  have  any  of  the  games  you 
sent,  and  the  Jackstraws  especially  have  been  greatly 
enjoyed.  I  wonder  that  I  never  thought  of  them  before. 

I  hope  when  you  are  in  Washington  you  will  not  pass 
our  hospital  without  coming  in,  for  I  shall  always  be  glad 
to  see  you. 

Yours  truly, 

ANNA  LOWELL. 

April  25,  '64.  Went  to  Washington  to  send  home  for 
my  men  in  the  regiment  nineteen  hundred  dollars  of  their 
last  pay-day  receipts.  As  I  dined  at  Willard's,  General 
and  Mrs.  Burnside  were  at  the  next  table.  His  corps 
passed  through  Washington,  and  President  Lincoln 
watched  them  from  a  balcony  at  Willard's,  and  he  was 
rousingly  cheered  by  the  soldiers  as  they  passed.  In  the 
evening  I  recreated  by  going  to  see  Davenport  in  Othello. 

Sunday,  May  I,  '64.  No  regimental  service  to-day. 
The  whole  brigade  is  out,  as  the  spring  campaign  is  open 
ing  at  the  front.  I  spent  several  hours  of  the  morning  at 
the  hospital.  In  the  afternoon  I  went  out  maying  with 
Mrs.  Lowell.  We  picked  pansies  and  violets  in  profu 
sion,  as  they  grew  wild  in  the  woods.  On  our  way  back 
we  caught  sight,  in  the  distance,  of  our  brigade  scouting 
party  led  by  Colonel  Lowell,  and  the  way  Mrs.  Lowell 
walked  to  welcome  her  husband  was  a  delight  to  see,  but 
I  could  hardly  keep  up  with  her.  For  myself,  I  had  at 


398  APPENDIX 

once  to  be  busy  with  the  care  of  the  wounded  and  the 
dead.  A  sergeant — a  fine  soldier — had  been  killed,  and 
Captain  De  Merritt  had  been  wounded,  with  two  of  his 
men.  Twenty-four  Confederate  prisoners  were  captured 
and  sent  on  to  Washington.  Colonel  Mosby's  commis 
sion  and  many  of  his  private  papers  were  found,  among 
them  a  vote  of  thanks  by  the  assembly  at  Richmond  for 
his  boldness  and  skill  in  capturing  General  Stoughton  at 
Fairfax.  [Two  months  later  he  was  to  try  his  "skill" 
on  me  at  Aldie,  but  without  success,  as  revealed  in  the 
story  of  my  capture  the  next  day,  after  his  chasing  me,  and 
while  I  was  caring  for  the  wounded  and  burying  the  dead 
at  Aldie.  (See  pp.  99-114.)  I  may  as  well  copy  here  a 
letter  I  received  from  him  forty-two  years  later  when  I 
invited  him  to  dine  with  me: — 

THE  BRUNSWICK, 
COPLEY  SQUARE, 
BOSTON,  MASS., 
APRIL  27th,  1906. 

My  dear  Sir, — On  my  return  to-day  from  Maiden  where 
I  spent  last  night  I  received  your  kind  letter.  I  regret 
that  I  cannot  accept  your  polite  invitation.  This  even 
ing  I  am  engaged  with  the  Middlesex  Club.  Tomorrow 
evening  I  leave  for  Washington. 

Very  truly, 

JNO.  S.  MOSBY. 

Sunday,  May  15,  '64.  Colonel  Lowell's  mother  from 
Cambridge  was  at  my  service  to-day. 

May  20,  '64.  We  are  very  anxious  to  get  to  the  front. 
I  have  no  love  for  a  fight,  but  I  want  to  be  with  those 
who — like  my  younger  brother — are  in  The  Wilderness 
bearing  the  burden  and  heat  of  the  conflict.  I  wrote  to 
my  Divinity  School  classmate  W.  W.  Newell  the  other 
day,  advising  him  to  leave  the  White  Mountains  and 


APPENDIX  399 

come  out  here  and  do  something  for  the  war.  His  next 
letter  was  directed  from  Washington,  and  now  he  is  in 
Fredericksburg  tending  to  the  sick  and  wounded.  A 
week  ago  I  was  in  the  Sanitary  Commission  offices  in 
Washington  and  heard  them  order  four  thousand  crutches. 
That  is  only  one  small  item  of  their  immense  expenses. 
I  visited  one  only  of  the  hospitals,  and  saw  several  thou 
sand  wounded  soldiers — all  cheerful  sufferers.  How 
glorious  it  is  that  men  will  risk  everything  for  what  they 
hold  dear! 

May  21,  '64.  As  the  First  Battalion  of  our  regiment, 
composed  of  Companies  C,  F,  G,  and  I,  are  stationed  at 
Muddy  Branch  to  guard  the  fords  of  the  Potomac  in  that 
section,  I  feel  that  I  must  make  them  a  visit.  So  I 
started  to-day  for  Washington  alone  on  my  roan  horse 
Jaques,  with  my  saddle-bags  and  my  india-rubbercoat; 
and  as  it  was  a  very  warm  day  I  rode  leisurely,  taking 
three  hours  for  the  trip.  I  dined  at  the  Ebbitt  House, 
where  I  had  agreed  to  meet  Capt.  Charles  E.  Rice  and 
Lieut.  John  T.  Richards,  who  were  returning  to  their 
battalion  in  Maryland.  They  soon  made  their  appear 
ance,  and  we  started  at  6.30  for  a  ride  of  twenty-three 
miles  to  Muddy  Branch.  It  was  a  very  pleasant  ride  in 
the  cool  of  the  evening.  We  reached  camp  at  10.30,  and 
I  have  seldom  seen  a  prettier  sight  than  as  it  appeared 
then  in  the  moonlight.  I  could  only  think  of  Aladdin's 
Palace  or  a  spectral  encampment.  Every  one  but  the 
guards  was  asleep,  and  in  the  officers'  quarters  each  bed 
was  occupied  except  the  one  reserved  for  me.  Rice  and 
Richards  crawled  in  with  some  other  officers. 

Sunday,  May  22,  '64.  Six  of  us  officers  went  to 
church  in  a  neighboring  village,  and  we  heard  a  Presby 
terian  preacher,  and  I  stopped  for  the  Communion,  as 
the  pastor's  invitation  specially  gave  a  welcome  to  mem- 


400  APPENDIX 

bers  of  the  church  in  all  denominations.  I  was  a  little 
chagrined,  however,  when  the  minister  addressed  us  who 
communed  as  "saved"  and  the  rest  who  looked  on  as 
"lost."  I  had  been  a  member  of  my  home  church  for 
eight  years,  but  had  never  learned  that  there  was  any 
safety  for  the  soul  but  eternal  vigilance,  and  I  surely  did 
not  think  that  my  fellow-officers  who  remained  in  the  back 
seats  of  the  church  were  any  worse  than  myself.  The 
preacher  said  that  unless  they  joined  the  company  of 
the  communicants  they  were  "as  oxen  or  asses  driven 
to  the  eternal  slaughter-house."  I  would  not  partake  of 
the  elements  of  Communion  after  that  false  and  insulting 
description  of  my  companions. 

We  had  ridden  about  four  miles  to  church,  and  on  the 
way  back  we  escorted  a  young  and  charming  governess 
home  to  the  house  of  an  old  Southern  planter  who  as  a 
suspected  Rebel  had  been  confined  for  a  time  in  Fort 
Lafayette.  But  he  was  very  hospitable  to  us  and  in 
vited  us  to  stop  to  dinner  and  to  come  to  his  house  at  any 
time.  However,  we  stopped  only  to  rest  and  refresh 
ourselves  for  a  few  minutes.  That  evening,  at  my  re 
quest,  a  dress  parade  was  held,  and  after  it  I  held  a  service 
and  addressed  the  men  as  they  sat  down  on  the  grass. 
Then  we  spent  the  rest  of  the  evening  singing  in  the 
open  air. 

The  next  day  Captain  Rice  and  Lieutenant  Richards 
escorted  me  on  a  cool  and  beautiful  ride  of  about  twelve 
miles  up  the  river,  on  the  towpath  of  the  canal,  and  we 
inspected  the  log  houses  where  our  men  are  stationed  to 
guard  the  fords  of  the  Potomac.  At  Edward's  Ferry  we 
stopped  and  dined  with  a  planter  who  looked  of  the  type 
of  Legree  in  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin."  Nearly  all  his 
slaves  had  left  him.  None  remained  but  old  women  and 
children,  and  these  were  at  work  out  of  doors  on  the  hay 


APPENDIX  401 

and  corn.     He  treated  us  very  kindly,  and  would  take 
nothing  for  our  fare. 

After  resting  about  two  hours  we  jogged  on  through  a 
very  rich  and  fertile  country  that  has  become  historic 
through  the  war.  I  saw  the  place  where  General  Banks' 
division  was  stationed  in  1861,  and  the  ford  where  General 
Hooker  crossed  with  his  whole  army  on  the  way  to  Gettys 
burg.  At  about  six  o'clock  we  stopped  for  the  night  in 
the  fine  mansion  of  a  rich  citizen  who  was  a  Union  man 
when  the  Union  armies  were  about  and  a  Confederate 
when  the  Confederates  were  near.  All  the  servants  were 
slaves,  but  very  much  attached  to  the  family,  and  seem 
ingly  very  contented.  The  landlord  was  absent  in 
Washington,  but  the  landlady  was  at  home  and  well  able 
to  entertain  us.  We  found  her  in  the  fields  directing  and 
assisting  the  slaves  in  planting  potatoes.  She  was  a 
strong,  muscular  woman  of  great  spirit,  but  with  a  gentle 
manner  and  tender  feelings.  With  old  Greek  hospitality, 
before  asking  any  questions  she  brought  out  the  wine  for 
our  refreshment.  She  spread  a  fine  table  with  spring 
chickens  and  cold  meats  and  preserves,  tea  and  coffee, 
and  other  things  too  numerous  to  mention.  In  the 
evening  we  went  out  on  the  veranda  and  sang,  and  later 
I  went  into  the  parlor  and  assisted  a  young  daughter  of 
the  family  in  her  music  lesson.  On  retiring,  the  hostess 
gave  us  the  best  chamber  in  the  house,  with  two  large 
feather  beds,  so  high  that  we  had  to  run  and  jump  to  get 
into  them.  I  sank  into  mine  about  two  feet, — at  least, 
my  centre  of  gravity  sank  that  distance,  while  my  feet 
and  head  were  raised  high  in  air.  This  situation  might 
have  been  quite  endurable  in  winter,  but  on  a  warm 
summer  night  it  was  too  hot  and  I  could  not  get  asleep 
till  towards  morning  when  the  air  was  cooler.  Captain 
Rice  and  Lieutenant  Richards  got  snugly  into  bed,  when 


402  APPENDIX 

they  stirred  up  a  nest  of  bees  at  the  foot,  and  the  way  they 
jumped  out  of  bed  was  laughable  to  see — at  least,  to  the 
onlooker.  They  soon  lighted  a  lamp  and  had  a  skirmish 
of  about  five  minutes  with  the  bees  and  succeeded  in 
killing  some  and  scattering  the  others.  The  rest  of  the 
night  passed  quietly.  We  had  an  early  breakfast,  and, 
receiving  each  of  us  a  bunch  of  beautiful  flowers  from  the 
children,  and  making  them  little  presents  in  return,  we 
started.  The  landlady  would  take  nothing,  though  she 
kept  five  of  us  and  our  horses  over  night.  We  had  two 
orderlies  to  accompany  us. 

We  now  directed  our  course  towards  Sugar  Loaf  Moun 
tain,  the  highest  elevation  in  Maryland.  It  had  been 
used  for  a  signal  station  by  the  armies  of  both  sides.  We 
found  the  upper  air  very  refreshing,  and  enjoyed  the 
beautiful  view.  Descending,  we  stopped  for  dinner  at 
a  house  under  the  hill,  and,  as  luck  would  have  it,  met 
there  a  very  attractive  Southern  beauty.  It  was  a  long 
time  before  anything  was  said,  as  no  one  introduced  us. 
At  last  I  got  up  courage  to  ask  her  the  name  of  a  yellow 
rose  that  was  in  view  on  the  piazza.  This  led  to  a  talk, 
and  the  talk  led  to  a  conversation,  and  the  conversation 
led  to  admiration,  and  admiration  led  to — .  I  must  not 
confess  the  tender  passion,  lest  I  be  thought  too  sus 
ceptible.  But  her  beautiful  eyes,  her  pearly  teeth,  her 
soft  rich  voice,  her  captivating  smile — well,  fate  compelled 
us  to  take  up  our  journey,  and  with  lingering  glances  I 
left  the  Southern  beauty  in  her  home  under  the  hill. 

We  started  away  at  three  o'clock  towards  Poolesville 
and  reached  Muddy  Branch  at  6.30,  having  had  a  very 
pleasant  trip  of  about  fifty  miles. 

The  next  morning  I  bade  good-bye  to  our  First  Bat 
talion  and  started  at  nine  o'clock  for  Washington.  The 
ride  was  very  beautiful.  Between  the  canal  and  the 


APPENDIX  403 

river  there  is  a  strip  of  land  varying  from  fifty  to  five 
hundred  feet  in  width  and  covered  generally  with  a  rich 
growth  of  trees  that  furnished  refreshing  shade.  I  made 
the  twenty-three  miles  in  a  little  less  than  three  hours, 
and  after  resting  my  horse  and  having  him  rubbed  down 
and  fed,  and  after  dining  and  visiting  the  Sanitary  Com 
mission,  I  started  again  at  four  o'clock  and  had  got  along 
about  half-way  to  our  camp  at  Vienna  when  I  met  one 
of  our  men  who  informed  me  that  Vienna  had  been 
evacuated  and  nothing  was  left  there.  This  was  a  great 
surprise  to  me.  Hitherto  I  have  always  happened  to  be 
in  camp  when  we  have  been  ordered  to  move,  and  have 
generally  succeeded  in  getting  all  my  things  away.  This 
time  a  good  many  of  my  things  were  left  behind,  and  it 
will  take  a  long  time  to  get  what  of  my  things  was  moved 
into  order.  I  am  writing  now  sitting  on  a  box  with  my 
writing  case  on  the  top  of  my  trunk.  We  are  now  at 
Falls  Church,  four  or  five  miles  nearer  Washington  than 
before,  and  we  guard  its  whole  front.  It  is  a  very  pretty 
camping-ground.  I  have  slept  on  the  floor  the  last  two 
nights  here,  and  though  I  have  found  no  soft  side  to  the 
boards,  they  are  better  than  that  feather  bed  in  the 
mansion  by  the  Potomac. 

June  8,  '64.  At  3  P.M.  started  for  The  Wilderness  with 
five  hundred  men  and  a  train  of  fifty  ambulances  to 
bring  off  some  of  the  wounded  who  still  survive.  (See 
pages  49-58.) 

June  19,  '64.  In  my  home  church  to-day.  Rev. 
Nathaniel  Hall  preaches  a  sermon  commemorative  of 
brother  Walter,  who  was  killed  at  Cold  Harbor.  I  wish 
I  could  be  present,  for  I  know  that  the  flow  of  sympathy 
from  our  Pastor's  full  heart  would  be  a  balm  to  my 
wounded  spirit.  I  hope  that  father  will  not  allow  this 
bereavement  to  trouble  him  overmuch. 


404  APPENDIX 

June  20,  '64.  I  have  been  to  Washington  to  express 
money  home  for  the  men.  I  met  Gen.  Frank  Bartlett, 
perhaps  the  youngest  general  in  the  service — only  twenty- 
three.  He  graduated  from  Harvard  two  years  after  I  did. 

June  24,  '64.  I  have  received  many  tender  expressions 
of  sympathy  in  my  brother's  death  at  Cold  Harbor  from 
my  friends  among  the  officers  here  and  from  Mrs.  Lowell, 
though  hers  was  not  given  in  words,  but  in  looks  and  a 
warm  pressure  of  the  hand.  She  could  not  express  it. 

This  afternoon,  I  had  just  come  in  from  a  ride  of  twelve 
miles  and  had  taken  my  supper  when  word  came  that 
Mosby  had  captured  forty  of  our  New  York  Cavalry  and 
had  left  three  wounded  men  on  the  field  at  Centreville, 
fourteen  miles  from  here.  Major  Forbes  was  ordered  to 
go  for  them  with  one  hundred  troopers  and  two  ambu 
lances.  The  Doctor  and  I  went  with  him.  We  started 
at  nine  o'clock  and  rode  till  2  A.M.,  when  we  halted  to 
rest  the  horses.  At  3.30  we  started  again,  and  soon  found 
the  wounded  men.  Two  were  mortally  wounded,  the 
other  seriously.  The  Doctor  gave  them  some  whiskey 
to  stimulate  their  sluggish  vitality,  and  some  morphine 
to  ease  their  pain  and  make  them  sleep.  I  got  them 
into  the  ambulances,  and  we  started  back  at  about  5  A.M. 
As  I  rode  behind  the  ambulances  to  be  ready  for  any 
help  to  the  wounded  and  the  dust  was  very  stifling 
and  the  sun  very  wilting,  I  became  much  fatigued;  but, 
getting  to  camp  at  10  A.M.,  I  sponged  myself  all  over  and 
felt  all  right  again. 

June  26,  '64.  Sunday.  On  account  of  the  heat  I 
held  my  service  at  undress  parade  in  the  early  evening 
— 6.45  o'clock. 

July  3,  '64.  Sunday.  I  addressed  the  regiment  at 
undress  parade  on  the  auspicious  omens  of  success  in 
our  struggle  for  liberty  and  union. 


APPENDIX  405 

July  4,  '64.  The  regiment  celebrated  Independence 
Day  with  various  sports — foot-racing,  jumping  of  horses, 
and  so  forth.  At  8  P.M.  I  started  out  on  a  scout  with 
Major  Forbes  and  one  hundred  and  fifty  men  to  watch 
the  gaps  of  the  Blue  Ridge.  [The  story  of  the  fate  of  this 
expedition  is  told  in  the  body  of  this  book,  pages  93-144.] 

September  2,  '64.  I  had  five  minutes'  notice  to  leave 
Charleston  Prison.  I  did  not  haggle  about  the  shortness 
of  the  notice,  as  it  was  to  take  me  again  under  the  Stars 
and  Stripes. 

September  n,  '64.  Sunday.  Beaufort,  S.C.  I  rode 
out  into  the  country  thirteen  miles  on  horseback  to  see 
Will  Gannett  and  his  work  for  the  freedmen.  I  addressed 
his  plantation  negroes  at  their  praise-meeting. 

September  13,  '64.  Hilton  Head.  At  II  A.M.  I  took 
the  steamer  Fulton  for  New  York.  Had  a  splendid  day. 
Stayed  on  deck  all  the  time. 

September  16,  '64.  Arrived  at  The  Narrows  at  5  A,M. 
In  the  course  of  the  day  I  called  on  Ned  Wetmore  and 
Horace  Howland  and  Jim  Fay — college  friends.  Took 
the  night  train  to  Boston  and  arrived  home  at  6.30 
A.M.,  September  lyth.  Joyful  welcome  and  glad  return. 
In  the  course  of  the  day  I  went  to  see  Mr.  John  M. 
Forbes  and  Mr.  William  Amory  to  report  on  the  condi 
tion  of  their  sons — my  messmates  in  prison. 

Sunday,  September  17,  '64.  Brother  Richard  loaned 
me  a  pair  of  black  trousers  and  I  went  with  the  family 
to  the  old  home  church  on  Meeting  House  Hill. 

September  18,  '64.  Dined  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  William 
Amory  at  Longwood,  Brookline,  and  told  them  of  my 
efforts  to  get  their  sick  son — my  messmate — released 
from  the  Charleston  Prison,  and  encouraged  them  to 
believe  that  they  would  have  him  at  home  in  a  few  weeks. 

September  23,   '64.     By  invitation  of  Mrs.  John  M. 


406  APPENDIX 

Forbes  of  Milton  I  took  the  10  A.M.  train  with  her  for  New 
Bedford  and  then  her  husband's  yacht  Azalea  for  their 
summer  home  on  the  island  Naushon. 

Sunday,  September  25,  '64.  All  of  us — Mrs.  Forbes 
and  her  ten  other  guests  besides  myself — went  to  the  west 
end  of  the  island  to  spend  the  day.  With  thirty-two 
horses  in  the  stable,  all  trained  to  the  saddle,  there  was  no 
lack  of  facilities  for  riding,  and  there  were  boats  by  the 
shore  for  rowing;  and  for  delightful  aspects  of  animal 
life  there  were  herds  of  deer  roaming  freely  in  the  woods. 

September  26,  '64.  Besides  taking  two  baths  in  the  sea 
and  two  walks  in  the  woods,  I  wrote  to-day  about  twenty 
letters  for  the  prisoners  at  Charleston,  S.C.,  and  sent 
them  to  their  nearest  relatives. 

September  27,  '64.  Misses  Annie  and  Jeannie  Watson 
from  Milton  and  Miss  Katie  Putnam  from  Boston  came 
down  to  Naushon  to-day  and  made  the  island  still  more 
attractive  to  a  convalescing  chaplain.  I  had  intended 
to  go  home  to-day,  but  decided  to  stop.  This  afternoon  I 
met  on  the  shore  the  marine  artist  Swain  Gifford,  who 
comes  here  frequently  to  sketch.  You  would  think  he  had 
bidden  good-bye  to  his  senses  to  see  him  attitudinizing 
towards  the  sea,  sometimes  wrong  side  up  to  get  impressions 
of  the  water  from  various  angles  of  vision. 

September  28,  '64.  Had  a  delightful  ride  horseback 
to-day  with  Miss  Annie  Watson. 

September  30,  '64.  Mrs.  Forbes  and  I  had  some  very 
confidential  conversations  to-day,  such  as  I  never  before 
had  with  any  one  but  my  sisters.  She  wanted  to  unburden 
her  oppressed  soul,  and  I  was  very  willing  with  such  a 
lovely  lady  to  reveal  mine.  Every  day  here  the  ladies 
gather  and  work  for  the  soldiers,  knitting  warm  socks  or 
gloves  for  the  coming  winter,  or  binding  the  silky  softness 
of  the  long  hairs  of  the  milkweed  into  cushions  of  various 


APPENDIX  407 

shapes  to  relieve  the  bed-sores  of  the  patients  in  the 
hospital.  It  has  been  a  great  pleasure  to  me  to  distribute 
these  things  among  my  men. 

October  I,  '64.  Misses  Putnam,  Cabot,  and  Tyson, 
and  Mrs.  Swain,  and  Artist  Swain  Gifford  and  I  bade 
farewell  to  Naushon.  Had  a  splendid  sail  till  the  wind 
blew  up  a  choppy  sea  and  the  ladies  became  inclined  to 
seasickness.  So,  to  distract  their  attention  from  them 
selves  and  the  choppy  sea,  I  started  them  to  sing  with  me 
"Rally  round  the  Flag,"  and  as  they  shouted  the  "Battle 
Cry  of  Freedom"  the  sea  lost  its  power  over  them  and  all 
was  well. 

Sunday,  October  2,  '64.  Heard  my  minister.  Rev. 
Nathaniel  Hall,  at  the  home  church,  and  walked  with  him 
to  his  home  after  service.  He  invited  me  to  address  his 
people  next  Sunday.  Took  tea  with  Rev.  James  Walker, 
D.D.,  ex-President  of  Harvard. 

October  4,  '64.  Went  up  to  Milton  and  got  a  little 
thoroughbred  Morgan  mare — Annette — which  Mr.  John 
M.  Forbes  asked  me  to  accept  for  service  in  the  field. 

October  6,  '64.  After  dinner  I  went  down  to  New- 
buryport  and  spent  the  night  with  Jacob  Stone,  father  of 
Capt.  Goodwin  Stone,  who  was  mortally  wounded  by  a 
shot  intended  for  me  in  the  chase  by  Mosby,  July  6th. 

October  9,  '64.  From  the  pulpit  of  my  childhood's 
church  I  told  the  story  of  my  capture  and  imprisonment. 

October  10,  '64.  Dined  with  Ned  Amory  at  his  home  in 
Longwood.  His  father  made  me  a  present  of  one  hundred 
dollars  and  gave  me  a  letter  of  credit  on  London  for  twenty- 
five  pounds  sterling  to  be  used  in  case  I  was  captured 
again.  I  had  it  sewed  within  the  lining  of  my  coat-collar, 
where  it  would  not  be  likely  to  be  found  by  my  captors. 

October  12,  '64.  Called  on  Mrs.  Lowell,  mother  of  my 
Colonel. 


408  APPENDIX 

October  13,  '64.  Father  and  I  took  my  horse — Nettie 
— to  the  cars  for  New  York  in  the  morning,  and  in  the 
afternoon  I  bade  a  tearful  farewell  to  my  home.  Joy 
through  tears.  Took  the  five-o'clock  Fall  River  boat- 
train  for  New  York. 

October  14,  '64.  I  put  my  horse  in  charge  of  the  Cam- 
den  &  Amboy  Transportation  Company  for  Washington, 
then  called  at  the  office  of  Francis  G.  Shaw, — father  of  my 
honored  classmate  Robert  Gould  Shaw,  the  hero  of  Fort 
Wagner,  and  of  my  beloved  colaborer  in  camp  and 
hospital,  Josephine  Shaw  Lowell,  wife  of  my  Colonel, 
Charles  Russell  Lowell.  Then  I  took  the  1 1  A.M.  boat  for 
Staten  Island  to  the  home  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Francis  G. 
Shaw,  where  their  daughter  Josephine  was  eagerly  and 
anxiously  awaiting  the  time  of  her  deliverance  of  her  first 
child,  and  wished  me  to  bear  messages  to  her  husband,  who 
was  fighting  with  Sheridan  in  the  Shenandoah  Valley.  I 
had  a  very  delightful  four  hours  with  mother  and  daughter 
and  then  took  the  boat  back  to  New  York  with  a  thousand 
loving  messages  for  my  Colonel.  But,  sad  to  tell,  they 
never  reached  him,  as,  only  five  days  after,  he  received  his 
fatal  wounds  at  Cedar  Creek.  At  that  time  I  was  in 
Washington  calling  upon  his  sister,  Miss  Anna  Lowell, 
at  the  hospital,  where  I  found  many  of  the  wounded  of  my 
own  regiment.  After  returning  to  New  York  from  my 
visit  to  Mrs.  Lowell  at  Staten  Island  I  spent  a  very  pleasant 
evening  with  two  Cambridge  friends,  Miss  Watson  and 
Miss  Hobart. 

October  15,  '64.  After  spending  the  night  at  the 
Brevoort  House  and  after  making  a  friendly  call  on  Ned 
Wetmore,  I  met  another  classmate,  William  Eliot  Furness, 
by  appointment,  and  he  accompanied  me  on  the  noon 
train  to  Philadelphia  and  made  me  his  guest  at  his  father's 
house.  After  dinner,  Dr.  William  H.  Furness,  who  lives 


APPENDIX  409 

next  door,  sent  in  word  that  he  would  like  to  see  me  in 
his  study.  I  had  for  a  long  time  admired  him  for  his 
courage  in  the  championship  of  human  freedom  and  had 
wished  to  be  introduced  to  him.  He  at  once  invited  me 
to  speak  in  his  pulpit  on  the  morrow,  though  he  told  me 
he  had  his  sermon  all  prepared.  I  was  surprised  at  the 
invitation,  being  so  little  known  to  him.  I  objected 
on  the  grounds  that  I  wanted  to  hear  him  and  that  I  had 
no  black  clothes.  He  would  not  listen  to  either  objection, 
and  said  he  had  a  Quaker  parish,  and  it  made  no  difference 
to  them  what  I  wore.  I  at  last  consented  to  make  a 
simple  address  from  the  platform  in  front  of  his  pulpit 
and  he  offered  to  conduct  all  the  other  services.  After 
the  hymn  he  introduced  me  as  Chaplain  of  the  Second 
Massachusetts  Cavalry  and  a  brother  in  the  ministry  who 
had  given  himself  early  to  the  war  for  freedom  and  union, 
and  had  suffered  captivity.  He  then  came  down  from 
the  pulpit  and  sat  in  the  front  pew  where  I  had  been  sitting 
with  Mrs.  Furness.  Then  I  told  to  his  people  the  simple 
but  moving  story  of  my  captivity  in  Southern  prisons, 
and  had  from  the  beginning  the  tearful  sympathy  of  the 
audience.  There  was  one  person  in  the  audience  who 
I  knew  was  interested,  for  he  looked  as  if  he  would  jump 
over  the  railing  of  the  gallery  where  he  had  been — much 
to  my  surprise — singing  in  the  quartette-choir.  There 
was  another  reason — as  he  told  me  after  the  service — for 
his  greater  surprise  in  seeing  me.  He  had  seen  an  item 
in  the  paper  about  the  death  of  Tom  Fox  and  Henry  Hall, 
and  my  name  had  been  linked  with  theirs  as  neighbors 
and  schoolmates  in  Dorchester  and  classmates  in  Harvard, 
and  he  thought  that  I  had  been  killed  like  them  in  battle. 
This  choir  singer  was  another  classmate  of  mine,  who  had 
sung  first  bass  with  me  in  the  college  chapel  choir  and  the 
Harvard  Glee  Club.  He  was  Joseph  Shippen,  younger 


410  APPENDIX 

brother  of  Rev.  Rush  R.  Shippen,  and  I  knew  he  spoke 
sincerely  when  he  said  to  me,  "My  face  was  one  wreath 
of  smiles  and  tears  all  the  time  you  spoke."  And  Dr. 
Furness  was  so  much  moved  that,  as  we  walked  home 
after  church,  he  urged  me  to  make  up  my  mind  to  come 
and  be  his  colleague.  I  also  had  an  invitation  to  come 
to  Germantown  and  build  up  a  parish.  Of  course  I 
could  not  give  any  encouragement  to  either  invitation,  as 
I  must  not  desert  the  cause  of  my  country  for  any  personal 
advantage.  I  spent  the  evening  with  Dr.  Furness  and 
his  son  Horace  and  then  took  a  night  sleeper  for  Wash 
ington. 

October  20,  '64.  After  three  days  in  Washington 
spent  in  gathering  together  my  effects  which  had  been 
stored  during  my  imprisonment,  and  taking  what  I  might 
need  for  service  in  the  field,  and  after  getting  passes  to 
the  front  for  my  horse  and  myself,  I  started  at  8.30  P.M. 
by  train  to  Martinsburg. 

October  21,  '64.  I  had  to  wait  in  Martinsburg  all  day 
for  my  horse  to  arrive.  I  spent  a  good  part  of  the  day 
reading  Mrs.  Hemans'  poems.  Indeed  I  read  more  of 
them  to-day  than  in  all  my  life  before,  and  found  that  I 
liked  her  more  than  ever.  Poor  Nettie  did  not  get  in  till 
7  P.M.,  having  had  no  feed  since  yesterday  noon. 

October  22,  '64.  Breakfasted  at  7.30  and  then  saddled 
up  and  started  at  8.30  for  Winchester  without  rations  or 
forage.  Nettie  did  not  like  the  feeling  of  the  saddle-bags 
and  the  packed  saddle  and  jumped  a  good  deal.  In  her 
cavorting  she  jumped  a  brook  four  feet  wide  like  a  deer, 
but  I  retained  my  seat  with  perfect  ease  and  at  last  sub 
dued  her.  We  went  along  with  a  wagon  train  a  mile  and 
a  half  long  guarded  by  a  brigade  of  infantry  and  a  squad 
ron  of  cavalry.  The  day's  journey  was  twenty-two  miles, 
and  we  went  very  slowly  and  with  many  halts.  At  three 


APPENDIX  41 1 

o'clock  I  was  glad  to  get  some  bread  and  milk  in  a  house 
by  the  way,  and,  as  luck  would  have  it,  I  found  a  small 
bag  of  oats  by  the  side  of  the  road  and  so  satisfied  Nettie's 
needs.  It  was  a  very  cold  day  and  hailed  a  while,  but  I 
arrived  safely  at  8  P.M.  and  put  up  at  Virginia  Hotel. 

Winchester,  October  23,  '64.  No  trains  going  to  the 
front  to-day  (Sunday),  so  I  visited  the  cavalry  hospital 
to  see  if  I  could  find  any  of  my  men.  I  did  find  six  or 
eight  wounded  or  sick.  They  seemed  delighted  to  see 
me,  and  were  much  interested  to  have  me  tell  something 
of  my  prison  experience.  I  divided  ten  dollars  among 
them,  and  got  from  the  Sanitary  Commission  a  blanket 
for  one  of  them  who  was  both  sick  and  wounded.  I  found 
also  two  officers,  Captain  Kuhls  and  Lieutenant  Crocker, 
both  wounded  in  the  late  fight  in  which  Colonel  Lowell  was 
killed.  Poor  Mrs.  Lowell!  I  parted  from  her  last  week 
and  she  said  she  would  meet  me  next  winter  in  camp. 
Poor  Mrs.  Lowell!  That  is  all  I  can  say.  Words  cannot 
express  her  bereavement.  I  wrote  to  her  to-day. 

October  24,  '64.  Started  from  Winchester  at  7.30. 
Reached  camp  near  Middletown  at  one  o'clock,  a  ride 
of  fourteen  miles  from  Winchester  by  the  road  over  which 
Sheridan  galloped  five  days  ago  and  saved  the  day  at 
Cedar  Creek.  What  a  glorious  victory  was  that!  It 
was  due,  under  him,  to  the  valor  of  the  Sixth  Corps  and 
the  Cavalry.  I  am  now  camping  on  the  field  of  the 
Battle  of  Cedar  Creek.  It  was  near  this  spot  where 
Colonel  Lowell  received  his  mortal  wounds.  Lieutenant 
Colonel  Crowninshield  succeeds  Colonel  Lowell  in  com 
mand  of  the  brigade,  and  I  reported  to  Captain  McKendry, 
commanding  my  regiment.  It  makes  a  very  different 
appearance  from  that  it  had  less  than  four  months  ago 
at  Falls  Church,  near  Washington,  when  I  left  it  July 
4th  for  the  scout  with  Major  Forbes  which  ended  in  our 


412  APPENDIX 

captivity.  Poor  fellow!  he  is  still  a  prisoner  of  war. 
I  sleep  to-night  with  Dr.  Oscar  C.  De  Wolfe,  whose  place 
I  took  in  the  fight  at  Aldie.  He  is  now  Brigade  Surgeon. 
The  band  gave  me  a  beautiful  welcome  back  in  a  delight 
ful  serenade,  among  other  pieces  playing  "Home  Again" 
very  touchingly. 

October  25,  '64.  Breakfasted  with  Captain  McKendry, 
Adjutant  Kinne,  and  Dr.  Johnson,  who  now,  with  me, 
are  the  only  field  and  staff  officers,  and  of  the  line  officers 
only  four  are  now  on  duty  with  the  regiment.  What  a 
change  from  last  summer,  when  we  had  twenty  or  thirty 
with  us!  In  the  fight  at  Cedar  Creek  we  lost  two  officers 
and  five  men  killed  and  three  officers  and  twenty-one  men 
wounded.  We  have  only  two  wall-tents  for  the  field  and 
staff.  I  am  to  sleep  to-night  with  Dr.  Johnson.  I  spent 
most  of  the  day  talking  with  the  men.  They  seemed  very 
glad  to  see  me,  and  shook  my  hand  heartily  with  their 
rough  grasp.  They  said  they  had  been  thinking  of  me  a 
great  deal.  I  wish  I  could  do  more  for  them.  Towards 
evening  the  mail  came  in,  and  I  attended  to  the  distribu 
tion  of  the  letters  and  papers  and  packages. 

October  26,  '64.  It  is  not  difficult  here  to  live  the 
simple  life, — indeed  there  is  nothing  else  to  do.  Just  now 
the  army  is  having  a  week's  rest  after  the  decisive  battle 
of  Cedar  Creek,  and  we  expect  that  the  fall  campaign  is 
about  over.  I  have  nothing  here  but  what  I  brought 
along  on  my  horse.  It  is  quite  cold  and  I  have  to  sleep 
in  my  overcoat.  My  bed  is  first  the  ground,  then  a  thin 
layer  of  straw,  then  my  india-rubber  blanket,  then  a 
shelter  tent  of  cotton  duck  for  the  under  sheet  and  a 
second  shelter  tent  for  the  upper  sheet,  then  a  horse- 
blanket  and  a  government  woolen  blanket  for  warmer 
coverings.  I  take  off  everything  but  my  underflannels 
and  socks,  and  put  on  my  army  overcoat  and  lie  down  and 


APPENDIX  413 

am  quite  comfortable.  We  eat  our  meals  from  tin  plates 
on  top  of  a  box,  and  we  sit  about  the  box  on  pails  upside 
down  or  any  block  or  other  support  we  can  find.  For 
food  we  have  nothing  but  beef,  hardbread,  and  coffee 
regularly;  at  times  potatoes,  bacon,  and  flour  griddle- 
cakes. 

October  27,  '64.  Last  night  it  rained  hard  and  the  wind 
blew  the  tent  over  so  much  that  water  collected  on  it  and 
dripped  through  so  that  I  was  lying  in  quite  a  pool  of 
water  before  I  was  wakened  by  it.  I  called  to  the  sentry 
to  straighten  out  the  tent,  and  then  I  pulled  out  the  cotton 
duck  sheets  which  held  the  uninvited  puddles  of  water, 
and  lay  down  again  in  a  dry  bed.  My  Morgan  mare — 
Nettie — does  not  like  these  exposures  in  the  rain  and  cold, 
and  is  restless  and  pulls  up  her  stake  nearly  every  night. 
Last  night  she  lamed  herself  in  the  effort. 

Sunday,  October  30,  '64.  I  visited  E  Company,  which 
just  now  is  doing  provost  guard  duty.  Dined  with  Dr. 
De  Wolfe.  At  five  o'clock  we  had  undress  parade,  and 
I  spoke  to  the  men  on  the  lessons  of  my  captivity. 

October  31,  '64.  Wrote  letters  for  some  of  the  soldiers 
who  had  neither  paper  nor  pens.  Called  on  Colonel 
Crowninshield  at  brigade  headquarters.  Rode  with  Dr. 
Johnson  to  Strasburg  and  back,  to  see  the  fields  that  were 
fought  over  a  few  days  ago. 

November  i,  '64.  Captain  McKendry,  who  is  com 
manding  the  regiment,  invited  me  to  ride  with  him  to  the 
north  fork  of  the  Shenandoah,  for  observation. 

November  2,  '64.  Orders  came  at  9  P.M.  to  be  ready 
to  move  in  the  morning. 

November  3,  '64.  Our  brigade  broke  camp  at  6  A.M. 
It  rained  all  day,  but  my  india-rubber  poncho  protected 
me  well  and  we  reached  Winchester  at  3  P.M.  We  en 
camped  for  the  night  on  the  outskirts  of  the  town.  Our 


APPENDIX 

official  name  is  "Cavalry  Reserve  Brigade,"  com 
manded  by  my  classmate  Col.  Caspar  Crowninshield,  and 
our  march  of  sixteen  miles  to-day  was  in  column  of  fours. 
First  was  an  advance  guard  of  fifty  troopers,  two  or 
three  hundred  yards  in  front.  Then  came  the  baggage- 
train  of  fifty-eight  wagons  in  two  lines  side  by  side,  that 
they  might  not  be  too  extended  for  safe  defence.  By 
the  side  of  the  wagon  train,  marching  along  through  the 
fields,  was  the  brigade  led  by  Colonel  Crowninshield, 
followed  immediately  by  the  color-bearer  and  the  provost 
guard;  then  the  band,  which  played  as  we  went  through 
the  towns.  My  regiment  was  the  last  in  the  column  and 
made  a  rear  guard  for  the  train.  Arriving  near  Winches 
ter,  the  Colonel's  inspector  picked  out  a  place  on  which 
to  camp  for  the  night.  He  chose  a  central  place  for  the 
headquarters  and  disposed  the  regiments  at  convenient 
distances  around  it.  Our  place  having  been  assigned, 
the  regiment  is  arranged  in  four  squadrons,  one  behind 
the  other,  and  then  the  men  dismount,  unsaddle  their 
horses  and  drive  stakes  by  which  to  tie  them.  Then 
they  pitch  their  tents,  feed  their  horses  and  get  their 
own  supper.  The  field  and  staff  officers  are  assigned  a 
place  in  front  of  the  regiment,  and  our  headquarters 
wagon  comes  up  and  throws  out  two  tents  and  our  blankets 
and  two  or  three  camp  chairs,  and  then  the  pioneers 
pitch  our  tents,  drive  stakes  for  our  horses,  and  cut  and 
bring  wood  for  a  fire,  about  which  we  gather.  The 
pioneers  are  a  corporal  and  five  men.  Their  duty  in  battle 
is  to  pull  down  fences  or  build  bridges  for  the  advance. 
As  soon  as  the  tents  were  up,  our  servants  made  our  beds 
and  then  began  to  cook  our  suppers.  Our  headquarters 
mess — consisting  of  Captain  McKendry,  commanding 
the  regiment,  and  Adjutant  Kinne  and  myself — had  for 
supper  the  usual  pork,  hardbread,  and  coffee,  which  we 


APPENDIX  415 

carry  with  us,  and,  as  extras,  we  bought  white  bread  in 
Winchester  and  also  some  flour  from  which  our  servants 
made  griddle-cakes.  The  two  doctors — Johnson  and  his 
assistant — mess  by  themselves.  We  spent  the  evening 
sitting  about  the  fire,  though  it  still  rained.  Most  of 
our  evenings  in  the  field  are  thus  passed,  as  we  have  no 
candles  and  no  desks  nor  tables  to  sit  at  in  our  tents.  We 
all  went  to  bed  about  9  P.M. 

November  4,  '64.  The  bugle  waked  us  at  4.30.  We 
had  all  slept  well,  though  it  poured  in  torrents  all  night; 
the  morning  was  dark  as  pitch,  and  it  rained  hard  while 
we  were  at  breakfast.  But  soldiers  cannot  wait  for  good 
weather,  and  at  6.30  the  bugler  sounded  the  order  to  break 
camp.  Then  the  tents  were  taken  down,  the  horses 
saddled,  and  the  tents  and  blankets  of  the  men  were 
strapped  to  the  saddles.  The  officers'  tents  and  blankets 
were  put  into  the  wagon  with  the  chairs.  Then  the  bugle 
sounded  forward  and  we  started.  The  skies  cleared  soon 
after  dawn,  and  we  had  a  pleasant  journey  of  twenty- 
seven  miles  and  encamped  again  within  three  or  four  miles 
of  Harpers  Ferry,  and  had  nice  beds  of  straw  and  splendid 
fires  of  rails.  Our  brigade  burned  that  night  all  the  rails 
that  could  be  gathered  within  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  and  the 
fences  were  five  feet  high  and  untouched  when  we  came. 
No  wonder  the  farmers  dislike  our  visits;  but  this  is  war, 
and  we  are  in  a  section  of  the  country  that  is  infested  with 
guerrillas  and  has  often  been  used  as  a  path  for  the  Con 
federates  to  the  threatening  of  Baltimore  and  Washington. 

November  5,  '64.  A  large  mail  reached  us  last  evening 
and  I  was  very  busy  distributing  it  till  we  broke  camp  at 
II  A.M.  and  moved  to  the  outskirts  of  Charlestown  and 
encamped  within  view  of  the  spot  where  John  Brown  was 
hung.  As  we  marched  through  the  town  the  band  played 
lively  patriotic  airs,  but  the  stores  were  shut,  the  public 


416  APPENDIX 

buildings  mostly  in  ruins,  and  the  streets  deserted.  From 
the  hill  near  by,  which  was  the  scene  of  the  execution, 
can  be  seen  the  hills  of  a  free  State — of  Maryland  re 
deemed.  John  Brown's  body  lies  a-mouldering  in  the 
grave,  but  his  soul  is  marching  on.  We  are  here  to  be 
near  the  construction  corps,  which  is  building  a  railroad, 
for  the  Government,  from  Harpers  Ferry  to  Winchester, 
and  to  act  as  a  guard  to  protect  the  workmen  from  the 
raids  of  guerrillas.  It  is  a  bitter  cold  day  and  some 
snow  has  fallen.  We  have  no  rails  here  for  our  fires,  as 
the  army  has  been  here  quite  lately  and  used  them  all, 
so  we  use  green  wood  from  the  forest.  Just  as  we  were 
about  to  dismount,  a  sow  and  a  litter  of  eight  fat  pigs 
came  grunting  down  towards  us.  Alas!  Poor  pigs! 
A  charge  was  made  upon  them  with  drawn  sabres  and  not 
one  was  left  to  tell  the  tale,  but  many  a  soldier  dined 
to-day  on  fresh  pork.  Before  night,  my  servant  got  from 
a  stack  half  a  mile  away  a  bundle  of  straw  for  my  bed 
and  made  it  luxurious. 

Sunday,  November  6,  '64.  It  is  milder  to-day,  and 
we  had  an  undress  parade  at  5  P.M.,  at  which  I  had  a  short 
service  and  spoke  to  the  men  from  the  text,  "Here  we 
have  no  continuing  city."  The  aptness  of  the  text  to  our 
present  service  brought  a  smile  to  the  faces  of  the  hearers. 

November  7,  '64.  I  rode  out  with  Colonel  Crownin- 
shield  to  see  the  work  of  the  construction  corps.  They 
get  along  now  about  a  mile  a  day,  but  will  soon  go  faster, 
and  we  expect  to  have  to  move  to-morrow  or  next  day 
to  keep  up  with  them. 

November  8,  '64.  This  is  Presidential  election  day, 
and  I  sent  home  the  vote  of  the  regiment — Lincoln,  238; 
McClellan,  in.  I  received  to-day  a  lot  of  papers  and 
distributed  them  among  the  officers  and  men.  I  give  the 
men  about  half  a  dozen  sheets  of  paper  with  envelopes 


APPENDIX  417 

every  day  we  are  in  camp.  They  write  in  pencil  their 
letters  and  I  address  and  frank  them  in  ink.  The  men 
have  no  money  now,  and  if  they  had  it  they  could  buy  no 
paper  here. 

November  10,  '64.  We  moved  two  or  three  miles  to 
day  to  keep  up  with  the  construction  corps. 

November  n,  '64.  I  breakfasted  with  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
George  Washington,  who  live  near  our  camp.  He  is 
great-great-grandnephew  of  the  Father  of  his  Country. 
Mrs.  Washington  is  a  fine  lady  and  a  generous  provider, 
as  witness  her  table  loaded  with  honey,  apple  butter, 
cider,  hoecakes,  corn  cakes,  apples,  and  coffee. 

November  13,  '64.     Moved  camp  to  Summit  Point. 

November  17,  '64.     Moved  camp  to  Opequan  Creek. 

November  18,  '64.  Captain  Holman  of  our  regiment 
is  now  on  Sheridan's  Staff,  adding  another  to  the  long  list 
of  our  fellow-officers  who  have  been  honored  by  high 
promotion.  Lieutenant  Baldwin,  who  used  to  be  a 
member  of  our  camp  quartette,  was  wounded  two  months 
ago  and  put  into  a  house  near  by,  and  has  lain  in  one 
position  for  nine  weeks.  He  has  received  every  possible 
attention  from  the  tenants  of  the  house  and  the  neighbors, 
but  had  seen  no  Union  man.  Imagine  his  joy  when 
we  camped  here.  I  have  taken  him  to-day  the  late 
papers.  He  cannot  be  moved  yet,  but  in  two  or  three 
weeks  expects  to  be  taken  to  his  home  in  Newton,  Mass. 
I  received  to-day  six  letters  of  anxious  inquiry  about  the 
fate  of  certain  men  of  our  regiment.  One  of  them  was 
killed  when  I  was  taken  prisoner.  Another  was  killed 
two  months  ago  near  here.  Sad  news  that  I  must  send! 

November  19,  '64.  I  received  to-day  from  Sammy 
Groom  inkstand  and  pens.  It  is  very  kind  of  him  to 
remember  his  old  playmate  and  neighbor  and  to  be  so 
interested  in  the  soldiers. 


418  APPENDIX 

Thursday,  November  24,  '64.  I  offered  prayer  to-day 
at  dress  parade  on  the  occasion  of  the  annual  New  Eng 
land  Thanksgiving. 

Sunday,  November  27,  '64.  Had  a  full  service  at  dress 
parade  this  morning.  We  are  encamped  now  near 
Stephensons  station. 

November  30,  '64.  After  I  had  gone  to  bed  last  night, 
orders  came  to  be  ready  to  move  at  daylight  this  morning. 
I  got  up  at  four  o'clock,  and  before  five  minutes  had 
passed,  an  emergency  order  came  to  be  ready  to  move 
immediately.  So  I  flew  round  and  ate  a  little  breakfast 
and  filled  one  of  my  saddle-bags  with  hardtack  and  started 
with  the  brigade  at  five  o'clock.  My  servant  carried  the 
forage  for  both  horses.  We  went  through  Berryville  to 
Snickers  Gap.  When  we  forded  the  Shenandoah  River, 
Nettie  was  almost  swept  away  by  the  force  of  the  stream. 
She  is  so  small  that  I  had  to  double  my  legs  up  to  keep 
myself  out  of  the  water.  Descending  the  eastern  slope 
of  the  Blue  Ridge,  we  could  see  why  we  came  out  as  the 
smoke  of  a  hundred  barns  and  haystacks  rose  in  Loudon 
County  valley  before  us,  the  destructive  work  of  the  other 
two  brigades  of  our  division  who  had  started  one  day 
before  us.  Our  part  in  the  work  of  destruction  I  have 
described  in  the  body  of  this  book.  (See  pages  190-192.) 

December  3,  '64.  Returned  to  our  camp  near  Winches 
ter.  I  am  delighted  to  find  that  Nettie  seems  equal  to 
any  work  I  am  likely  to  require  of  her.  She  carried  me 
the  last  four  days  with  my  saddle  heavily  packed,  the 
first  day  fifty  miles,  the  second  day  thirty  miles,  the  third 
day  twenty-five  miles,  and  to-day  fifteen  miles,  and  came 
in  fresher  than  when  she  started.  She  surprises  every  one 
by  her  endurance.  I  did  not  attempt  to  assist  in  carrying 
over  the  ford  of  the  Shenandoah  any  of  the  livestock  we 
gathered  together  in  Loudon  County.  I  remembered 


APPENDIX  419 

the  difficulty  I  had  in  keeping  myself  out  of  the  water 
when  we  crossed  on  the  way  out.  It  was  a  great  work 
to  get  the  droves  of  cattle,  sheep,  and  hogs  across  the 
river,  which  was  about  forty  rods  wide.  The  hogs  and 
the  sheep  absolutely  refused  to  swim.  So  the  hogs  had 
to  be  killed,  that  they  might  give  no  comfort  to  the 
enemy,  and  each  cavalryman  took  a  sheep  over  on  his 
horse. 

Sunday,  December  n,  '64.  No  service  to-day.  The 
snow  is  six  inches  deep,  and  we  have  no  shelter.  It  is 
very  cold  in  this  bleak  valley.  To  give  a  little  protection 
to  Nettie  from  the  wind  I  have  had  tall  branches  of  pine 
stuck  into  the  ground  about  her. 

December  16,  '64.  It  has  been  hard  enough  to  live 
out  of  doors  till  the  middle  of  December.  A  great  part 
of  each  day  in  camp  I  could  do  nothing  but  stand  before 
a  log  fire  and  turn  round  as  upon  a  spit,  to  keep  both 
front  and  back  warm.  It  is  too  cold  to  read  or  write. 
I  did  read  a  little  of  Tennyson,  but  all  laughed  at  me  as 
crazy  for  doing  it.  The  Bible  and  Tennyson  are  the  only 
books  I  have.  Just  now  I  am  in  a  log  house  that  Colonel 
Crowninshield  will  occupy  when  he  returns  from  his 
leave  of  absence  to  visit  his  home.  Then  I  shall  have  a 
log  house  with  Major  McKendry.  I  have  just  received 
a  letter  from  Mrs.  John  M.  Forbes,  saying  that  twenty- 
five  more  mittens  are  on  the  way.  I  have  already  dis 
tributed  fifty-eight  pairs.  They  save  a  good  deal  of 
suffering. 

December  28,  '64.  Thank  Heaven!  I  am  back  again 
safe.  Have  just  returned  from  a  ten  days'  raid  towards 
Gordonsville.  The  hardships  and  suffering  of  a  cavalry 
raid  in  winter  can  hardly  be  imagined.  Cold  hands  and 
feet  that  cannot  be  warmed,  sleeping  on  the  snow,  riding 
in  the  piercing  wind  from  sunrise  to  sunset,  breakfast  at 


420  APPENDIX 

5.30  and  supper  at  8 — no  other  meal,  fording  deep  and 
rapid  streams,  my  horse  giving  out  on  the  third  day, 
sights  of  suffering  in  others,  men  dismounted  walking  till 
their  boots  wore  out  and  opened,  exposing  bleeding  feet, — 
such  things  have  made  the  last  ten  days  full  of  weariness 
and  suffering.  It  rained  three  days,  snowed  one,  and  the 
rest  were  dreadful  cold.  It  doesn't  seem  as  if  I  could 
get  warm  in  a  week.  (Other  details  of  this  expedition 
are  told  on  pages  194-203.) 

January  6,  '65.  A  large  box  of  good  things  from  home 
came  to-day,  and  I  thought  I  could  not  make  a  better  use 
of  it  than  to  divide  it  among  many.  So,  having  with  the 
help  of  Adjutant  Kinne  spread  out  its  contents  upon  a 
large  table  in  tin  plates,  I  had  "officers'  call"  sounded 
by  the  bugler  right  after  ''tattoo,"  and  all  came  who 
were  in  camp — fifteen  of  them — and  feasted  till  "taps," 
8-8.30  o'clock.  The  bright  faces,  the  good  cheer,  the 
warm  thanks  to  the  folks  at  home,  cannot  be  described. 
I  think  the  mince-pie  received  the  highest  praise,  though 
the  wreath-cake  was  the  most  admired,  as  both  beauty 
and  symmetry  were  displayed  in  its  form.  The  cheese 
was  also  a  highly  appreciated  luxury.  The  thin  crisp 
cookies  disappeared  marvellously.  I  enjoyed  so  much 
the  eagerness  with  which  the  things  were  eaten  that  I 
tasted  of  nothing  but  the  mince-pie  and  the  guava  jelly. 
The  only  thing  that  remained  was  one  box  of  guava  jelly 
and  this  I  am  keeping  for  the  Captain,  who  is  on  picket 
to-night. 

January  9,  '65.  My  Morgan  mare  is  still  very  lame. 
I  have  not  ridden  her  for  a  month.  She  has  had  to  stand 
so  much  in  the  mud  that  comes  here  with  every  melting 
that  the  sores  on  the  lower  parts  of  her  legs  will  not  heal. 
Poor  creature!  I  do  not  see  how  she  can  live  through  the 
winter.  My  man  is  working  on  the  stable  for  her  and 


APPENDIX  421 

Loudon  every  day,  and  is  meaning  to  corduroy  the  floor 
with  logs.  Just  now  they  are  both  standing  in  four  inches 
of  mud  and  do  not  lie  down  even  at  night. 

For  myself  I  think  I  have  got  over  the  bad  effects  of 
that  freezing  raid  to  Gordonsville,  though  now  the  cold 
makes  me  shiver  quicker  than  it  used  to.  I  find  great 
protection  at  night  in  a  knit  woollen  cap  that  has  been 
sent  from  home,  and  in  the  last  few  days  I  have  distrib 
uted  a  dozen  of  them  among  the  officers,  who  wear 
them  in  their  quarters  as  an  ornament  almost  as  much 
as  for  protection.  To-day  two  captains  came  in  and 
asked  if  I  had  any  of  those  knit  caps  left.  I  had  just  two, 
and  they  took  them  thankfully.  One  more  came  to 
night,  and  I  gave  it  to  Ned  Amory — my  messmate  in 
prison.  He  has  just  returned.  Major  Forbes — my  other 
messmate — has  not  yet  returned,  as  the  formalities  of 
exchange  have  not  been  completed.  I  hope  he  will  be 
back  soon.  I  rode  to  Winchester  to-day  and  met  two 
of  General  Sheridan's  staff — Captain  Holman,  who  used 
to  be  a  line  officer  with  us;  and  Assistant  Medical  In 
spector  John  Homans,  H.  C.  1858,  with  whom  I  used 
to  sing  in  the  Chapel  choir  and  College  Glee  Club  at 
Harvard. 

February  I,  '65.  Sheridan  to-day  held  a  grand  review 
of  all  the  cavalry  in  the  Valley.  It  looks  as  if  he  meant 
to  take  us  into  action  as  soon  as  the  season  will  permit. 
All  the  other  officers  when  passing  the  General  saluted 
him  by  dropping  the  sabre  after  lifting  it  to  the  chin. 
I,  having  no  arms,  lifted  my  cap,  and  old  Phil — bless 
his  soul! — returned  the  salute  and  lifted  his  cap  to  me. 

Camp  Russell,  Virginia,  February  10,  '65.  The  days 
do  not  seem  to  lengthen  very  fast,  so  two  meals  a  day 
satisfy  us.  I  am  in  Headquarters  mess  with  Colonel 
Crowninshield,  Major  McKendry,  Adjutant  Burlingham, 


422  APPENDIX 

and  Quartermaster  Pinkham.  We  have  breakfast  at  8, 
and  dinner  at  3.  No  supper.  I  get  up  about  7.30.  I 
do  not  indulge  in  the  luxury  of  a  bath  except  in  com 
fortable  weather,  and  that  happens  at  this  season  about 
once  in  two  weeks.  I  have  to  thaw  out  the  water  nearly 
every  morning  before  I  can  wash  my  face  and  hands. 
My  poor  hands  are  sorely  chapped,  and  I  cannot  keep 
them  looking  clean.  My  servant  comes  in  and  makes 
a  wood  fire  on  the  hearth  and  blacks  my  boots  before  I 
get  up.  My  toilet  and  a  few  calisthenic  exercises  fill 
the  time  till  breakfast,  at  which  we  do  not  linger  long 
in  this  cold  season,  as  the  mess-tent  has  no  fireplace. 
After  breakfast  I  attend  to  the  mail  and  send  it  off. 
Then  I  sit  down  to  read  or  write  till  dinner,  but  am 
interrupted  every  few  minutes  by  applicants  for  paper 
and  envelopes,  or  mittens,  or  books,  or  information. 
After  dinner,  if  the  weather  is  anyways  pleasant,  I  take 
a  ride  on  my  Confederate  mare,  Loudon,  who  is  a  fine 
animal  with  a  dainty  step  as  if  dancing  to  music.  It 
is  a  great  pleasure  riding  her.  I  rode  out  to-day,  though 
the  snow  is  very  deep,  to  see  if  I  could  find  any  stone  fit 
to  build  a  chimney  for  my  new  house.  I  saw  some  in 
an  old  cellar  a  mile  out,  but  mostly  hidden  under  the 
snow.  As  soon  as  it  is  possible  I  shall  send  out  for  some 
of  them.  My  Morgan  mare  seems  better  of  her  lameness. 
To-day,  while  tethered,  I  saw  her  kick  up  her  heels  like 
a  rabbit  when  he  springs.  "Retreat"  is  sounded  at 
sunset  and  then  we  have  music  by  the  band.  It  is  a 
great  treat  to  us.  After  that,  I  read  till  the  mail  comes 
at  seven  o'clock,  when  I  assort  and  distribute  it.  If  I 
get  letters  myself,  I  generally  answer  them  the  same 
night.  If  I  have  no  writing  to  do,  I  read  till  ten  o'clock, 
and,  after  warming  my  feet,  climb  into  my  bed.  I  say 
climb,  for  it  needs  some  gymnastics,  as  my  bed  is  higher 


APPENDIX  423 

up  than  my  shoulder.  It  is  a  bunk  right  over  Major 
McKendry's. 

This  week  I  have  been  rejoicing  in  the  declared  determi 
nation  of  Congress  to  establish  universal  freedom.  Now 
let  them  give  us  men  to  carry  it  out.  The  sword  must 
still  be  our  savior.  The  Rebels  will  fight  to  the  bitter 
end. 

February  12,  '65.  I  received  last  night  an  atlas  from 
home.  It  is  just  what  was  wanted  here.  Men  go  on 
furlough  to  all  States  from  Maine  to  Iowa,  and  many 
have  asked  me  for  a  map  to  find  the  best  way.  Then  too 
we  have  not  seen  the  field  of  Sherman's  operations.  To 
day  is  Sunday,  my  usual  distribution  day,  and  I  have  for 
each  company  some  copies  of  the  Transcript,  Journal, 
Advertiser,  Post,  and  Christian  Register  from  Boston, 
and  the  Evening  Post,  Army  and  Navy  Journal,  and 
Christian  Inquirer  from  New  York,  and  also  LittelUs  Living 
Age  and  the  Atlantic  Monthly.  I  gave  also  a  pair  of  knit 
mittens  to  the  first  sergeant  of  each  company,  to  be  given 
to  any  man  who  needed  and  deserved  them.  The  money 
that  has  been  sent  to  me  has  gone  as  fast  as  it  has  come. 
No  one  else  has  any  money  here,  and  I  run  the  mess.  The 
paymaster  is  daily  expected,  but  it  is  ten  months  since 
we  have  seen  him.  We  also  are  suffering  many  other 
privations — our  effects,  clothes,  boots,  blankets,  and  so 
forth,  stored  in  Washington  and  but  just  beginning  to 
come  to  us,  without  enough  wagons  to  draw  wood  for 
our  fires,  our  horses  suffering  for  lack  of  shelter,  with  no 
hay  but  once  a  week,  with  few  blankets,  water  and  wood 
nearly  two  miles  away,  and  yet  this  is  the  severest  winter 
ever  known  in  these  parts.  But  nearly  everybody  is 
cheerful  and  expecting  better  things  soon.  I  long  for 
fruit  very  much.  We  have  nothing  but  onions  to  keep  us 
from  scurvy.  Major  McKendry  brought  lately  some 


424  APPENDIX 

apples  from  home  and  gave  me  two  and  I  ate  them  as  a 
starving  man  would. 

February  21,  '65.  We  are  ordered  to  be  in  readiness  to 
move.  This  is  only  the  second  day  that  I  have  been  in 
my  new  home.  When  a  month  ago  my  friend  Rev. 
Henry  Wilder  Foote  of  King's  Chapel  sent  me  a  big  box 
of  books  that  he  had  gathered  among  his  parishioners 
[see  Note  4,  p.  303.)  I  had  no  good  place  to  put  them,  as  I  was 
tenting  with  Major  McKendry.  So  I  had  a  new  house 
built  for  me,  with  walls  of  heavy  logs  and  floor  of  split 
logs,  the  space  enclosed  being  about  sixteen  feet  by  eight 
feet,  the  fireplace  of  stone  in  the  middle  of  one  side,  my 
bed  in  the  end,  my  writing-table  opposite  the  fireplace, 
and  shelves  for  books  along  the  same  side.  Now  I  fear 
the  shelves  will  be  useless,  but  the  books  I  will  try  to  get 
to  some  hospital,  as  Foote  suggested.  Since  "taps"  I 
have  been  writing  to  him  my  thanks  for  the  splendid 
collection.  I  have  had  at  least  fifty  callers  to-day,  and 
everybody  got  a  book  to  his  liking.  They  are  mostly  in 
fine  editions,  and  have  been  a  great  acquisition  to  us. 

February  26,  '65. 

CAMP  RUSSELL,  VIRGINIA. 

My  dear  Brother  Richard, — This  is  probably  my  last 
home  letter  from  the  Shenandoah  Valley.  Reveille  will 
sound  at  three  o'clock  to-morrow  morning  and  we  must 
up  and  away.  I  received  yesterday  the  two  dollars  you 
enclosed,  and  am  much  obliged  for  the  promptness  with 
which  you  sent  it.  It  came  when  I  was  actually  in  debt, 
and  so  was  doubly  acceptable.  I  have  now  over  $250.00 
loaned  out  in  the  regiment,  and  in  my  pocket  only  $2.50 
with  which  to  start  early  to-morrow  with  Sheridan  on  a 
raid  of  unknown  direction  and  length.  You  may  think 
this  is  poor  economy  in  me,  but  I  think  it  satisfies  the  rules 
of  a  higher  economy.  At  least  /  am  satisfied.  We 


APPENDIX  425 

hear  that  the  Paymaster  has  started  from  Washington, 
but  we  know  he  hasn't  reached  here,  and  we  do  not  see 
any  chance  of  his  catching  up  with  us.  Nobody  has  ever 
yet  caught  up  with  Sheridan  after  he  started  on  a  raid.  It 
must  be  very  hard  on  the  families  of  the  soldiers  in  this 
regiment,  as  most  of  my  men  have  not  received  a  cent  of 
pay  for  ten  months.  They  however  keep  wonderfully 
cheerful,  though  they  often  speak  of  it  as  hard. 

I  doubt  whether  we  ever  return  here.  Still  I  have  no 
idea  where  we  are  going.  Being  a  Yankee,  I  take  the 
liberty  of  guessing  that  we  are  to  join  Grant,  and  I  surely 
hope  so. 

To-day  I  have  been  very  busy  packing.  I  have  put 
my  regimental  library  into  two  large  boxes  and  nailed 
them  up  and  directed  them  to  the  Sanitary  Commission, 
but  I  do  not  know  as  they  ever  can  be  got  there.  We  are 
two  miles  out  of  Winchester,  and  all  baggage  and  stores 
are  going  to  Harpers  Ferry.  The  agents  of  the  Commis 
sion  must  have  their  hands  full  to  get  their  own  stuff  to 
the  rear,  and  will  scarcely  be  able  to  send  out  here  for 
the  books.  Still  I  am  going  to  try  it,  and  have  sent  an 
orderly  to  Winchester  to  see  if  it  is  possible.  If  the  books 
fall  into  Rebel  hands,  they  will  not  aid  their  cause.  The 
spirit  of  every  page  of  them  is  against  disloyalty,  and 
would  be  worse  than  a  spy  or  a  traitor  in  Rebel  camps. 
Of  course  we  take  along  with  us  only  what  is  absolutely 
essential,  not  one  wagon  except  for  ammunition.  It  is 
very  early  to  open  the  campaign,  but  Grant  knows  no 
winter  quarters.  The  mud  here  is  half  a  foot  deep  and 
will  try  the  horses  severely.  I  did  not  quite  see  how  I 
could  get  along.  Loudon  could  not  carry  me  and  my 
blankets  and  forage,  and  Nettie  is  still  lame.  What 
should  I  do  with  her?  I  could  not  turn  her  out  to  starve. 
Yet  I  know  of  no  one  who  could  take  her  to  the  rear. 


426  APPENDIX 

And  what  should  I  do  for  a  pack-horse.  Nothing  is  im 
possible  to  him  that  believeth,  so  I  gave  myself  no  anxiety, 
but  kept  my  eyes  open  for  any  opportunity.  One  soon 
offered  itself.  Colonel  Crowninshield,  I  discovered,  has 
more  horses  than  he  can  take  care  of  when  we  move.  So 
I  proposed  to  him  to  buy  one,  or  to  take  one  along  and  keep 
it  for  him.  (Please  excuse  a  parenthesis.  This  moment 
my  boxes  of  books  have  gone.  I  am  so  pleased!  I  feared 
they  would  be  lost.  The  orderly  I  sent  carried  a  note 
from  me  to  the  Agent  of  the  Sanitary  Commission  in 
Winchester  asking  him  to  send,  if  possible,  a  team  for  the 
books.  The  orderly  just  arrived  back  escorting  a  team 
of  the  Commission,  and  bringing  a  note  from  the  Agent 
saying  that  books  were  always  acceptable,  especially  the 
kind  that  I  had.  Now,  after  employing  happily  our 
leisure  for  two  months,  they  will  go  elsewhere  on  the  same 
errand  of  mercy  to  cheer  and  exalt  the  soldier.  Wilder 
Foote  will  be  especially  pleased  when  he  hears  this.) 
Now  to  return  and  take  up  the  dropped  thread  of  my 
story.  The  Colonel  preferred  that  I  should  take  and  use 
one  of  his  horses  for  the  present,  and  indeed  was  glad  of 
the  chance  to  have  her  taken  care  of.  She  is  a  dun- 
colored  mare,  as  stout  as  a  buffalo  and  almost  as  wild. 
The  Colonel  advises  me  not  to  ride  her  in  a  fight,  as  then 
she  is  perfectly  unmanageable.  I  shall  be  careful  about 
it,  but  I  think  I  can  master  her  by  kindness  and  will.  I 
believe  with  Richard  Wade — in  Winthrop's  story  of 
"John  Brent" — that  all  that  is  needed  is  for  the  horse 
and  rider  to  feel  that  they  have  the  same  will.  If  a  horse 
is  obstinate  I  try  to  make  him  believe  that  my  will  lies 
in  the  same  path  with  his,  feeling  sure  that  soon  his  will 
follow  in  mine.  The  Dunn,  as  I  call  her,  has  a  tremendous 
neck,  very  masculine  indeed.  She  disdains  the  curb  and 
insists  on  tossing  her  head  scornfully— in  which  perhaps 


APPENDIX  427 

she  is  feminine.  But  I  shall  make  as  if  I  did  not  notice 
her,  and  she  will  soon  leave  it  off.  The  only  way  to  meet 
haughtiness  is  with  silent  neglect.  The  Dunn  is  not 
handsome,  though  she  is  very  spirited.  Her  best  qual 
ity  for  my  purpose  is  her  toughness  and  strength.  I  shall 
pack  sixty  pounds  of  forage  on  her  the  first  day,  and  ride 
Loudon  with  only  my  overcoat  and  poncho.  My  servant 
will  go  with  me,  and  my  horses  will  be  better  provided 
for  than  in  any  former  expedition.  I  am  also  in  luck  in 
having  found  a  man  who  is  going  to  the  rear  and  will  take 
Nettie  in  charge.  He  is  Hiram  Mellen  of  our  Quarter 
masters'  Department. 

Here  I  must  stop  off  short.  It  is  10  P.M.  and  I  must 
write  to  Mrs.  John  M.  Forbes  to  acknowledge  the  receipt 
of  fifty  more  pairs  of  cavalry  mittens  for  my  men.  It 
will  please  me  greatly  to  be  able  to  tell  her  how  nicely 
I  have  provided  for  the  mare  that  came  from  her  hus 
band's  stables.  Dr.  Emerson  of  Concord  will  also  be 
pleased,  as  he  used  to  ride  her.  Please  tell  Sister  Mary 
that  I  was  delighted  with  the  book  she  sent  me — "John 
Brent."  I  never  tire  of  reading  of  the  chivalric  virtues. 
Indeed  I  have  tried  to  emulate  the  true  Knights  of  Chiv 
alry,  though  I  have  added  Duty  to  the  knightly  virtues, 
giving  it  the  precedence  before  Honor.  Love  and  Duty 
claim  my  highest  devotion,  and  for  them  I  will  battle  to 
the  end. 

My  love  to  all  the  family, 

CHARLES. 

April  6,  1918.  After  this  last  letter  of  February  26, 
'65,  I  could  not  keep  a  diary  till  the  end  of  the  war.  I 
wrote  home  a  few  letters  in  pencil,  but  it  is  almost  im 
possible  to  decipher  them  now.  Some  years  ago,  how 
ever,  I  wrote  out  all  the  movements  of  the  cavalry  till 


428  APPENDIX 

the  end  of  the  war  and  they  will  be  found  in  the  body  of 
this  book.  The  whole  book  has  been  a  labor  of  love 
scattered  over  many  years,  under  the  impelling  feeling 
that,  having  passed  through  so  many  and  so  various 
experiences  in  the  course  of  my  service  in  the  last  two 
years  of  the  Civil  War,  I  ought  to  set  them  down  plainly 
and  truly,  so  that,  when  the  history  of  the  Civil  War  shall 
be  written,  my  individual  testimony  may  help  in  forming 
a  true  judgment.  And  I  have  also  felt  that  while  the 
chords  of  the  human  heart  thrill  to  the  touch  of  courage 
and  devotion,  the  story  of  the  Civil  War  will  find  eager 
listeners  and  stimulate  responsive  heroisms. 


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